


Easier Done Than Said

by saucyminx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-19
Updated: 2009-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:09:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out simply enough, a practical joke here and there - but things have a way of getting out of control quickly when it comes to the Winchester brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam put a great deal of time, effort and energy into moving everything around in the Motel room while Dean was out drinking. It wasn't because he'd watched too many hours of home decorating shows on cable; it was because Sam Winchester had a plan so cunning it would go down in Winchester history. Generations would speak of it.

While Dean was out drinking and hustling pool, Sam was moving everything in the motel room to another random place in the room. When Dean walked in tired and probably a little drunk at three a.m. Sam would be nestled snugly in his bed which was now right next to the bathroom door (he was perfectly positioned to reach out and scare the living daylights out of his brother if he walked past). Dean's bed was now, in fact, right against the motel room door which fortunately opened out. The two bedside tables had been strategically place in the very center of the room with the top drawers out.

Sam was so amused with himself by the time he finished moving furniture it didn't even particularly bother him that he was so sweaty he had to have another shower. The worst part of the evening was waiting until he heard footsteps on the wooden walkway outside their room. It seemed to take forever; really it was only a couple of hours after Sam finished his minor renovations. As soon as he heard Dean's familiar footfalls he flicked off the TV and dove under his covers. He had to bury his face in the pillow to stifle his laughter.

-=-=-

It was a very nice thing to be drunk, or at least in Dean's state of drunkenness which was kind of pleasantly fuzzy. The room was dark; Sam had probably been asleep for hours, so Dean turned the lock slowly and pulled the door open. Only one step forward had his leg crashing hard into _something_ and he lost his balance, falling down on top of a hard mattress. Dean's face scrunched up in confusion, "Wha the..." He was fairly certain that bed had not been in front of the door when he left.

A little concerned that Sam might have just done a lousy job trying to barricade Dean out - clearly he'd forgotten the door opened out - Dean climbed the rest of the way onto the bed, reaching behind him to drag the door closed. If his brother wanted to play tricks then that was just _fine_. Dean was the master of the pranks, Sam would pay later. Now though, he needed a piss, and possibly a beer, then bed.

Climbing off the other side of the bed he toed off his boots, kicking them to the side, then extended a hand as he walked forward in the dark. If he could remember where the light switch was he'd slap it on but he couldn't so he didn't bother.

Something very wooden and sharp jammed into his side and against his toes with the next step, "Ow! Mother fucker," he hopped back, rubbing at the now sore spot. Alright, he was going to _end_ Sam. Once he emptied his bladder ‘cause the pain had only intensified the need to piss.

This time he dropped his hand, feeling along the night stands that were, for whatever stupid reason, in the middle of the room. He took cautious steps forward, toward where he thought the bathroom was. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see the faint outline of another bed. Ha. Sam wasn't going to get him to fall over this one. Nope, Dean would climb over it and _then_ he'd turn on the light. His thigh brushed against the mattress and he slid forward a little more toward the bathroom door.

Sam launched himself off the bed and screamed "NINJA" as he slammed into his brother's chest and took him down like a sack of bricks. The problem was he was already laughing _so_ hard by the time they hit the floor that he could barely breathe. They ended up slammed up against the night stands, arms and legs entangled and Sam was pretty sure he'd be picking Dean's hair out of his teeth for a week. But it was _so_ worth it.

"I am going to _kill_ you," Dean growled, panting for breath and shoving at Sam. His bladder was so full now he flinched as he pushed up. "God _damn_ it Sam! You're lucky I didn't have a knife or somethin' cause... _god_ ," he continued to grumble as he climbed over the bed to the bathroom. Once he flipped on the bathroom light, he stood in the glow and glared down at his little brother still on the floor laughing. "Oh. It is _so_ on. Watch your step Sam," his eyebrows drew together in annoyance before he slammed the door closed, yelling a moment later through the wood. "And move the fuckin' bed back!"

Sam's stomach was aching from laughing and he actually felt like he might die if he couldn't get a proper lung full of air soon. When he could finally breathe without choking, he crawled towards his bed and yanked it away from the door chuckling the entire time he was pushing it back towards the wall. It was actually quicker moving everything back because he wasn't trying to figure out where to put things. Halfway through dragging Dean's bed away from the door he stopped, completely overcome by laughter again and stood there bent over, hands resting on his thighs for a good ten minutes. It was _awesome_. _Sam_ was awesome. He finally managed to get his act together and shoved Dean's bed back then shoved the night stands back to their original positions. Flopping face down on his bed he was chuckling softly and sputtering a little when Dean came back out of the bathroom. "All prettied up Princess?"

"Oh you laugh now Sammy, just you wait," Dean scoffed and tugged off his jacket, laying it across the back of the chair. "Payback is a bitch." His leg still hurt pretty bad from where he'd rammed it into the open desk drawer and now his alcohol laced brain was trying to come up with the best revenge. There was no doubt Sam would get his; it was just a matter of when. Slipping out of his jeans and tugging his shirt over his head, Dean crawled into his bed under the covers and growled, "Get the light asshat."

Chuckling Sam reached over and flicked the lamp off. "You want some," he started laughing again, "Advil for the painful bruises you're gonna have in the morning?" His laughter was muffled as he fell forward into his pillow.

Dean sighed heavily and turned away from Sam. "I'm going to kill you in your sleep you know."

-=-=-=-

The best way to pull off a prank was to wait for the _perfect_ moment. Anticipation had a lot to do with it. Like when Sam would get up to use the restroom at a dinner and Dean would grin evilly when he returned just to get to look at this salad in suspicion. Or when Dean would ask if Sam used a particular shampoo during a shower and Sam would scowl because he'd never forgotten about the Nair incident.

The right moment for this prank came when Sam started shifting around uncomfortably on the chair and Dean knew he was about to head to the bathroom. Which was kind of disgusting really that he knew the signs that his brother was about to take a crap but whatever, you spend twenty four seven with a person and you learn things you probably never wanted to know.

So Dean headed toward the bathroom first, casually flicking on the light and laughing when Sam huffed in annoyance. "Just taken a piss, chill," he rolled his eyes and shut the door. In a flash the little tube was out of his pocket and he grinned, squirting clear liquid out on the seat and smoothing it down so it wouldn't be noticeable. He lifted the seat up, flushed the toilet and washed off his hands quickly before stepping out. "All yours don't forget the Febreze."

Sam stared at Dean for a few moments. It was getting really hard to tell when Dean might have gotten up to something. He just looked evil _all_ the time now. Dean had a particular talent for looking evil. Smiling warily at his brother, Sam stood and walked over to the bathroom and kicked the door open with his foot.

Everything looked perfectly normal. Glancing back at his brother who seemed to be absorbed in flicking the channels on the TV Sam walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Leaning over the sink Sam took a quick look at his face and scrubbed his hands through his hair. He was convinced that spending so much time with his brother was aging him. Smiling he undid his jeans and shoved them past his hips and sat down on the toilet.

There are times in a man's life that become mile stones. Everything suddenly got sorted into _happened before_ and _happened after_. Pretty much the moment Sam's ass hit the plastic toilet seat he knew this would be one of those times in his life. So - even though Sam knew that his ass was super glued to the seat (he knew because he tried to wiggle and couldn't move an inch) he still took a crap. He sat there thinking about a couple of things; how he was going to get his ass OFF the seat and what he was going to do to his brother when he was free.

Sam flushed the toilet.

There was silence from the other side of the door.

"Dean?" Sam yelled out.

If Sam could have seen Dean's face, he would have seen the man's lips curl up in the best impression of the Cheshire Cat. The slow chuckle was building itself as Dean pushed off the bed and walked casually toward the bathroom door, leaning against the wood. "Yes Sammy? How can I help you?" His voice was the picture of mock innocence though his smile still grew wickedly.

"How do you think you son-of-a-bitch?" Sam's voice was tense. He was wrestling with visions of himself stumbling into the emergency room at the hospital with a toilet seat stuck to his _naked_ ass.

Dean turned the door knob and pushed the door open, eyes fixing on Sam a moment later. "What's the matter Sammy? You a little stuck?" The word ended on a quick burst of laughter, head turning to the side.

Sam tugged his shirt down to cover himself up a little. This was _ridiculous_. "First of all, you are a _bastard_. Second of all I think it's obvious that I'm stuck. Can you do something?" Sam was going to glue Dean's head to his own ass when he got out of the bathroom.

Laughter bubbled up and Dean could no longer resist it, turning slightly, he fell against the door frame and slid down, clutching his stomach as wave after wave of laughter washed through him. "Oh god dude," he gasped, curling his fingers around his knee caps. "Your face. Holy shit," another round of laughter and he was wiping at his eyes, blowing out a slow breath. "God I have to take a picture of this," he pushed up off the ground, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. "Say cheese Sam."

Sam flailed forward and yanked the shower curtain across himself. "For _fuck_ sake Dean. That's just _wrong_ ," he peered over the edge of the curtain at his brother. "You are sick, you know that?"

"Dude, you can't even _see_ anything Jesus calm the fuck down." Dean laughed and snapped his phone shut, once more tucking it in his pocket. He'd settle on no picture. This moment would probably be burned into his mind for the rest of his life anyway. "You should be nicer to me Sammy my boy, after all, I'm the only one who can unstick you." His eyes glinted, narrowing on Sam.

Throwing the shower curtain aside Sam looked down at his brother. "Please Dean will you unstick me?" He spoke through gritted teeth but he _knew_ that Dean was going to drag this out as long as possible. For all he knew - he might die of starvation because Dean wouldn't unstick his ass from a toilet. How had their lives become reduced to this?

Considering it with the tilt of his head, Dean chuckled softly as he rolled on the heels of his feet and headed back into the main room. "Well alright, but first you have to admit that I am the king of all pranks. And I'm only doing it because we're gonna spend all day tomorrow driving and I don't wanna hear your bitchin' about your sore ass," he shuffled around in his bag, speaking over his shoulder as he retrieved the bottle of nail polish remover he'd bought with the super glue. Pushing up and back from his bag, he headed back to the bathroom, smacking the bottle against his palm. "Well, let's hear it."

Sam's lips were pressed so tight he could feel them going a bit numb. Letting his head drop forward into his hands he took a deep breath. "You are the kingofallpranks," he rushed out; looking up with blazing eyes, "get me _off_ this thing." He was going to invest a great deal of time in making Dean pay for this.

Smirking slightly, Dean held out the bottle, unscrewed the top and held it over the sink. "I'm sorry Sam, I didn't quite hear you, what did you say?" He blinked innocently at his brother, belayed only by the slight upward quirk of his lips.

Sam licked his lips and unclenched his jaw long enough to say "You are the King of all pranks." His lip was curled at the corner and his eyes narrowed at his brother. "Good enough?" He held out his hand.

"Thought so," Dean smirked and offered the bottle to Sam. "This should loosen it right up. The glue's only along the back," another round of laughter rocked through him and he waited until Sam had a good hold on the bottle before stepping back, clutching at his stomach. "Oh man I'm amazing."

"Get the _hell_ outta here." Sam was already working the bottle, trying to get the top off. "Freakin' child safety, god damn shit..." the top came off and nail polish remove slopped up the front of Sam's shirt.

Still laughing, Dean headed out of the bathroom and back to his bed. This definitely made up for the bruise still fading on his thigh from the night stand's drawer. Eyes glinting, he dropped down and snatched up the remote, chuckling occasionally at the annoyed puffs coming from Sam in the bathroom. "Need some help with that Sammy?"

Sam wasn't a contortionist. Far from it. Being six foot five and stuck to a toilet seat having to smear nail polisher remover under his ass was about the most challenging thing he'd had to do in a very long time. "Shut up," he hollered and went back to soaking wads of toilet paper with the foul smelling liquid and wiping it along his ass. It was humiliating. Listening to Dean laughing from the other side of the door was just salt in the wound.

It took Sam over fifteen minutes to get his ass off the seat, and he paid dearly for rushing it. He'd left some of his flesh _on_ the toilet seat. It stung like a bastard when he pulled his boxers up. Preparing to face Dean made Sam feel like he was walking down death row. He yanked the door open and walked out. "You know Dean - that was..." Sam realized there was no point in trying to convince Dean that there were lines that shouldn't be crossed. That's why Sam never liked the whole practical joking thing; it keep going and going until someone (generally Sam) got hurt. He shook his head and went over to his bed to lie down; his ass was aching anyway.

"Aw poor Sammy's ass hurts?" Dean laughed and shifted further back on his bed, eyeing his brother. "Man, you started it. You know how these things work," he shrugged and went back to watching TV. It was Sam's turn to mope and be moody about the whole thing, he'd get over it, and Dean had this feeling he was really going to have to watch his back because Sam could be pretty crafty. Though he'd never admit that out loud.

-=-=-=-

Sam started to spend a lot of time in the bathroom. Sometimes, he would hide a book down his pants and head into the bathroom to perch in silence on the edge of the tub for an hour then stride back out into the room as if he'd been gone ten minutes. He never let on that he wasn't doing anything. It was all about building up Dean's tolerance. Sam wanted Dean to have checked everything so many times that he would start to doubt his own sanity. The rules were simple, spend way too much time in the bathroom, never make eye contact on the way out and never do a _thing_. No practical jokes, nothing.

Sam kept it up for over a week. Friday they had a tiring hunt; they chased down a couple of vamps and it turned into a one mile cross-country run. They caught up with the vile creatures in the end and beheaded one each but they were tired and dirty. After a pit stop in their motel room for a shower they headed down the road to a pub for a few beers. A couple of hours later they were asleep, snoring softly. Sam's snores were fake. He considered himself to be a fairly good actor. He'd had reason to develop his skill.

Padding almost silently across the floor, in fact, ninja-like - Sam slinked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him with barely a sound. He got the shampoo bottle and the tube of toothpaste. Ever since they started hunting together Sam and Dean had shared a tube of toothpaste; it drove Sam insane. It seemed that Dean was incapable of getting toothpaste onto his toothbrush without all getting it all over the outside of the tube. It was almost ridiculous.

Lifting the back of the toilet tank off extremely slowly Sam rested it on the toilet seat and reached into the tank to pull out a sealed Ziploc bag. A rather demented smile crept onto his face as he gently set the bag in the sink. Pulling the bag open, Sam pulled out a syringe and some bottles of blue food coloring; he made short work of filling the syringe and injecting the food coloring into the shampoo bottle until one small bottle was empty. After repeating the same process with the tube of toothpaste he put both items back where they belonged and put the evidence back in the zip lock. He let the bag drop into the tank with a satisfying plop and put the lid back on the tank. He couldn't wait to see his brother after his morning shower.

Pushing the bathroom door open Sam padded back to his bed, yawned and slipped under the covers.

Every part of Dean's body ached when he rolled out of bed in the morning. He was really getting too old to go running after vamps. Next time he'd leave that to Sam. Curling his fingers into his hips, he arched his body back in a stretch, groaning as he stumbled to the bathroom. It was still pretty early but they'd found a few clues at the vamps home that suggested there might be others in a town a few hundred miles from their present location and Dean wanted to get a good start on them, hopefully before they could move on. So he kicked at Sam's mattress and mumbled about him waking up before heading to the bathroom.

Dean went through the motions of his morning piss and showering with his eyes closed. Strictly routine after all these years. He wrapped the towel around his waist after ruffling it through his hair a few times and padding his chest dry. Despite the warm shower and the fact that he'd been vertical for at least ten minutes, Dean's eyes were still barely slits as he squirted toothpaste over his toothbrush. He needed coffee badly and he prayed that Sam had gotten his ass up and gone to get some because Dean was only a few steps away from the line of intolerable.

As he brushed along his teeth his eyes flickered up to the mirror, dropped down and shot back up a moment later. The brush fell from his hand into the sink, jaw dropping at the same time as his eyes widened. "Oh. My. God. _Sam_ ," he yelled the name, blinking a few times as if it could clear away the image.

Though still wet, his hair was deep, rich blue, little droplets of blue tinted water streaming down his neck. The toothpaste foaming along his lips was the same blue, teeth clearly already stained. "Sam!" He yelled once more, this time turning to the door and pulling it open, letting it slam against the wall as he stepped into the motel room. "What the _fuck_ did you do?!?"

Sam's laugh was thick and rich and he didn't even bother opening his eyes quickly because he wanted to savor the build-up. "Didn't do a _thing_ ," he managed to get out. "What's wro..." he opened his eyes. There was nothing prettier than Mr. King-of-Pranks Dean God damned Winchester with blue hair and teeth. Pulling his blackberry out from under his pillow Sam clicked a picture and fell back on the bed laughing so hard he thought he was going to pull some muscles.

"I am going to fucking _kill_ you," Dean growled and launched himself onto Sam's body in the bed. It didn't matter to him that he was still in just the towel and that tooth paste was still foaming in his mouth. All he wanted was to cause Sam some type of _pain_ because his hair was fucking _blue_. "You are so dead, there will be _no_ body," he snapped and tightened his hands around Sam's arm, tugging at him to roll him over and pin him down onto the bed, pulling the arms back roughly.

"Ouch, _Jesus_ ," Dean actually yanked a little too hard, but it didn't stop Sam from laughing. Every time he looked up at his brother's pretty blue hair he started chuckling all over again. "D..Dean, you're sitting on my nuts..." he started laughing all over again trying hard not to look at all the flesh that was sitting on him.

"You deserve to have your fuckin' nuts chopped off you stupid _asshole_ ," Dean scowled and climbed off Sam because, well, he was still in a towel and that was just _weird._ Still didn't stop the fact that he now officially looked like some blue hair, blue teeth, freak of nature. "This stuff better fucking wash out quickly because I'm going to make your life _hell_ if it doesn't."

Pushing himself up to sitting Sam's eyes widened in surprise, "Dean you glued my _ass_ to a freakin' toilet seat!!" He couldn't believe Dean was getting so mad about a little food coloring. It would wear off; he chuckled, in a few days. "Don't be such a pussy."

"Yeah well you and your _ass_ didn't have to go out in public with the fuckin' toilet seat still glued there did it?" Dean snapped and crossed quickly to the bathroom, staring at his reflection with wide eyes for a moment before turning back to Sam. "How the fuck am I supposed to be taken seriously like this? God... the ways I'm going to make you suffer Sam," his eyes narrowed dangerously before he stepped back into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, already reaching out to turn on the shower again. He'd wash his hair a thousand times if that’s what it took to get the color to fade.

It was worth losing a little bit of skin off his ass just to live to see Dean with blue hair and teeth. Sam was going to make him do _all_ the talking no matter what case they were on for the next few days. He fell back onto his mattress laughing.

-=-=-=-

Dean curled his fingers around the steering wheel, peering through his sunglasses into the diner at Sam talking to the cute blond behind the counter. He could tell just by the way his brother moved that Sam was doing his shy, quiet flirting. The kind he did when he really liked a girl and probably would have hooked up with her if he was that type of guy. Reaching up, he peeled of the strip of the tooth whitener kit he'd made Sam buy at Wal-Mart before coming here and slid out of the driver's side.

Tugging off his sunglasses as he stepped inside the cool diner, he could feel eyes shift to him and he walked instantly to Sam's side, leaning heavily into his body and wrapping an arm low around his waist, "Jesus baby I've been waiting for _ever_ ," he dipped forward and nuzzled his head into Sam's neck. Eyes shifting to the wide eyed blond waitress gazing at them, he sighed heavily. "Was he flirting with you? So very _like_ him, trying to get me all jealous," he slapped his hand roughly into Sam's chest and grinned up at him with blue teeth. "You're always messing around with the pretty girls huh baby? Cause you wish you were one," Dean turned back to the waitress, still grinning, "he especially likes it when we braid his hair into pig tails, you should see how _cute_ he looks all done up."

Sam went rigid against his brother's body and he rolled his eyes as he blushed bright red. "He's _only_ doing this because he's my brother." He saw the girl's eyes widen and her face morph into a look of disgust and realized a moment too late what she thought. "No ...no no, we're brothers but we're not-" he shoved Dean aside roughly, "what the _hell_ Dean?"

"Don't lie to the poor girl _baby_ ," Dean shook his head and snatched at Sam's blackberry sitting beside his brother's hand, scrolling through to the photos and holding it out to the girl. "See? What sort of brother would have pictures of his lover in a towel, still all dripping from his shower," Dean laughed as if it were simple logic and bumped his hip against Sam's. "Now come on lover boy, Daddy needs his burger and you _know_ how I hate waiting." He batted his eyelashes at Sam, pursing his lips to keep the laughter from falling out.

The girl whipped around and scurried off returning rather quickly with a bag for Sam. He slid a twenty across the counter and looked down, picked up the bag and stormed out of the diner. When he got to the car Dean was already waiting, still killing himself laughing; Sam pulled his salad out of the bag then crushed the bag between his hip and the car. "There you go," he said, "handing Dean a flat bag with grease already seeping through it.

Staring at the bag, Dean shook his head and snatched at it. "Just makin' it worse for yourself Sammy, like fuel on the fire," he pulled out the flattened burger, shrugging once more before taking a bite. Still tasted the same, if a little flat. Rounding to the driver's side, he pointed at his hair. "As long as this is blue," he let his finger drop to Sam, "you. Suffer." He grinned at Sam before pulling open the car door and sliding in, taking another bite of his burger.

-=-=-=-

True to his word, Dean made the following few days while his hair stayed blue as miserable for Sam as possible. But, in Sam's defense, the man took every blow and generally managed to throw one back. They'd been unable to locate the vamps in the next town they went to but Sam found another set of signs - a series of people all being found with their blood drained, throats torn - a day or so away. That night at dinner Dean had scowled down at his food until the waitress came. Sam kept giving him these looks as he if expected Dean to do something in repeat of that morning. Dean didn't.

But he _did_ wait until Sam's attention was sufficiently distracted by the waitress before he dropped a Black Cherry Warhead in Sam's coke. It fizzled and dissolved and when Sam pulled up to take a long gulp, his face pulled in tighter on itself then Dean had ever seen. He laughed so hard about it he nearly pissed his pants and had to get up and go to the bathroom. Of course when he came back he shouldn't have been that surprised when his went to shake salt onto his fries and ended up with fries and a large pile of white salt on top. Sam chuckled and lifted his eyebrow, saying without words that Dean's immature prank had deserved an equally immature one in return.

Not every day passed with such minor incidents. Sam slapped a joy buzzer on Dean's ass in the middle of a gas station store. The way he leapt around and hollered you would have thought he'd been shot. Sam did his level best not to laugh as he walked away quickly and disappeared into the crowd of concerned onlookers.

Naturally, it brought on a rather nasty incident in the car involving Dean's remarkable knowledge of the car. Sam reached down to change the radio station one day and was shocked within an inch of his life. Dean had actually spent an hour in the middle of the night hooking the car battery up to the radio. Sam punched Dean when he could feel his arm and Dean had to swerve over to the side of the road because he was laughing so hard he was crying. All Sam could do was hope that Dean would forget he'd electrified the damn thing before _he_ decided to change the station. Of course, he didn’t.

As the blue was beginning to fade from his hair Dean decided Sam needed a prank of a different sort, especially when Dean woke to find every pair of his jeans buried under a huge pile of ice in an ice chest in the middle of the room. How Sam had managed to do all that in the middle of the night without him knowing was beyond him. Dean was actually a little impressed with his craftiness, but he'd _never_ admit it out loud.

So Dean hired a stripper to come by the motel and casually made his escape to "get dinner" moments before her arrival. Crouching behind the building to peer into the open back window, Dean laughed hard, biting into his arm as he watched Sam desperately try to stop the girl who couldn't seem to stop writhing against him. His face was all flushed, quite nicely actually, and Dean stopped laughing after a minute and looked away. Then he heard something shatter and he turned back to see that Sam had knocked the lamp off the table in his attempts to get away from the rather disgusted looking stripper. Dean waited until Sam had managed to get her to go before walking casually in with a pizza and smiling at Sam as innocently as he could manage. Sam didn't look very fooled but Dean was damn proud of that prank so he didn't mind.

-=-=-=-

If Sam had learned anything from Dean it was that you should always play to your strengths. Sam was a planner. He had the patience of a Saint providing the end result was his brother suffering in some way. Sam bided his time waiting until a hunt came up that would keep them in the same city for a few days, maybe even a week. He didn't have to wait long. Dean turned up a multiple ghost haunting at a mental hospital in Washington State and they headed there almost immediately.

They split up to do some research which fit with Sam's plan perfectly. He spent a good deal of time on the internet scouring for information on local nightclubs. When he finally found the perfect club the glee was quiet remarkable. The club was called B.J.'s - Sam didn't need to read the explanation of the Club's name to get the joke. It was a member's only gay bar and was holding a wet t-shirt contest on Friday night. Sam's toes curled up in his boots he was so freaking happy. He fired off an email with a photo of Dean explaining how he was in town with his lover from San Francisco and they'd both really love to get a guest membership. Also, he'd added, Dean would absolutely _love_ to participate in the wet t-shirt contest - he'd simply _die_ if he didn't get to.

It only took a day to get a reply letting Sam know that a membership would be waiting at the door for them and that they'd be pleased to add Dean's name to the list of competitors in the wet t-shirt contest if Sam would send a credit card number for the registration fee. Dean was a thoroughbred, or at least, he always told Sam that whenever possible so Sam put his money where _Dean's_ mouth was and sent off his credit card number. Well, he sent off someone else's credit card number.

The second part of the plan was a little trickier and required some real method acting on Sam's part. He waited until another few days of extremely annoying yet mostly harmless pranks had past. Dean had put two drops of "Insanican Hot Sauce" in Sam's evening beer and Sam felt like he was having a heart attack after downing a huge mouthful. When Dean slipped out to get some more beer (he actually felt a little bad about the hot sauce) Sam had cut the toe out of one of each pair of socks Dean owned. He knew how much Dean hated shopping.

Dean tied Sam's feet to his bed while he was napping and he nearly crippled himself when he got up to take a leak. Later that evening, Sam ordered ten pizzas while Dean was in the bathroom then nicked his brother's money and went for a walk. There were no pizzas by the time Sam got back to the room but Dean certainly looked a little frazzled.

Friday arrived quickly and Sam put his plan into motion that afternoon. They finished a salt and burn of some old hair clippings and a rather pathetic looking stuffed dog and the last of the spirits were dispatched.

Summoning his best _lost, pathetic, and desperate little brother_ Sam sat Dean down over a late lunch and explained to him that the jokes needed to stop. He believed, he said, that practical jokes were really awesome and creative but it had actually started to affect his ability to hunt.

Sam explained how he wasn't sleeping properly, was a nervous wreck and really need to call a truce. He was afraid; he stated with sad, wide eyes that he would do something to endanger Dean on a hunt. He even managed to tear up a little as he begged Dean to stop. (It actually wasn't that hard - the thought of losing Dean... well...)

Deans' eyes softened and he nodded. It was a good time to break free of the downward spiral they were on. They agreed to a cease fire although Sam kept his fingers crossed under the table. They shook hands and Sam offered to take Dean out for a beer - even told him he'd arrange for a private membership for them so they could check out what was supposed to be the hottest nightclub in the city.

Sam got dressed quickly and after they had a beer in the room and relaxed a little he told Dean it was time to go.

They only had to stand in line for about ten minutes, really? It wasn't that easy to figure out the place was a gay bar. As with most things _gay_ there were a hell of a lot of women and a lot of tall, good looking men. Sam and Dean didn't stand out all that much actually which sent Sam spiraling off into his thoughts for a few minutes.

Once inside, it was a little more obvious. Sam was having a great deal of trouble hiding the smirk on his face as he noticed the caged men dancing, hell; they weren't even wearing very much. Looking sideways at his brother, Sam fought off a grin and slid an arm over Dean's shoulders, "wanna sit at the bar?"

Dean was _not_ an idiot. And he wasn't as oblivious as Sam might think he was. But, judging from the look on Sam's face, Dean was fairly certain his brother knew that Dean was putting it together. His eyes slid to the couples, men pressed close together, and he rolled his eyes, shaking his head slowly. Obviously he'd been played. But as far as pranks went, this one was pretty lame. Basically this meant Dean had to keep one eye on his brother the entire time they were here because there had to be something more. Lights flashed around the club and he sighed, walking with Sam over to the bar and shrugging his arm off. "Lame," he muttered, dropping down onto the stool. He sought out the eyes of the bar tender and asked for a beer, rolling his eyes at Sam's chuckle when the bar tender flirted shamelessly with Dean.

"I think he likes you," Sam snorted. He looked around the bar and noticed that a few man were eyeing his brother and shifted a little closer. It was nothing to do with being jealous or protective or _anything_ like that, he just had his brother's back.

The DJ's voice boomed over the dull thumping base of the music announcing the wet t-shirt contest and calling for the first round of contestants. "We need some hot men to come over to the side of the upper dance floor to get their club shirts and get ready to show us what they've got." Sam looked down at the beer the bartender had slid toward him. "We need Mike Remy, Todd Christoff, Luke Wilms, Davidson Manns and Dean Winchester. Come on over boys."

Sam snorted around his beer bottle and tried really hard not to look at his brother.

Hearing his name come across the speakers had Dean’s shoulders tensing automatically. Ever so slowly he turned his head toward Sam, jaw clenched. "Sam, you have got to be _fucking_ kidding me. You did _not_ sign me up for that," anger bubbled through him. There was _no_ way he was getting up on stage for some wet t-shirt contest in the middle of a gay bar where men would be... _looking_ at him. Gay men. Who all wanted... there was just no _fucking_ way.

"Yup," chuckling against his beer bottle Sam looked over, "paid $100 to sign you up, you get a free club shirt and if you win we get $500 in prize money. You're always telling me that you're hot." He couldn't keep it in anymore and burst out laughing as he slid his beer back onto the bar so he didn't end up wearing it. "You," he gasped out, "are _so_ doing this."

Dean shoved roughly at Sam's arm, "Shut up you big asshole I am _not_ getting up there! Are you stupid?!? That's like walking into the line of fire." He turned roughly to Sam and scowled deeply. "This is too much. You're crossing a line here Sam and I'm not getting on that stage. You can go up there and just do it yourself."

"Oh what? Mr. King of Practical jokes can dish it out but can't suck it up? Put on your big girl panties Dean," Sam grabbed Dean's jacket and pulled him off balance to get him off the bar stool, "and get up there and put your money where your mouth is." Pulling up to his full height Sam stabbed his finger at his brother's chest, "you glued my _ass_ to a toilet seat and nearly killed me with hot sauce."

"Have you forgotten the blue dye?!" Dean snapped, shoving back at Sam's chest roughly. "And you cut all the toes out of my socks. _And_ you electrocuted my ass in public. I'm not gonna get up there so a bunch of..." Dean's eyes slid around the club for a moment before settling on Sam once more. His jaw clenched as planted another hand on his chest. "You wanna play this game? Then you get your ass up there."

"That's not how this works and you know it. Our whole lives you've told me _suck it up, Sammy, you lost the bet, Sammy, Winchesters do what they have to do, Sammy_." He shoved Dean back; hands connecting hard with his brother's shoulders and knocking him back a couple of steps.

"There a problem here boys?" Sam's eyes moved slowly to the rather large man who was standing in front of them with his arms folded. Then he looked back at Dean quickly.

"N..no," Sam mumbled hand brushing over Dean's shirt to straighten it. "He was just, we were," _think_ Winchester. Sam's eyes narrowed momentarily and he smiled sweetly at Dean then turned back to the bouncer. "I was just a little jealous about him going in the wet t-shirt contest." He slid closer to Dean and slipped his arm around his brother's waist. "Jealous," he smiled and winked at the bouncer pinching Dean's back _hard_.

Dean tried to not react to the fingers pinching him and instead smoothed over his expression, grinning at the bouncer that he'd rather not try to fight with. "He's always getting this way when we go out. You know how it goes, always needing to be reassured," he slid his hand along Sam's waist, glancing at him with amused smirk before looking back at the bouncer to see if their lie was working out. "We're fine now though. Sorry."

"Fine huh?" The bouncer stepped back a couple of paces and leaned against the wall just out of earshot.

The smile on Sam's face felt a little stiff. "You are _so_ getting your ass up there so we don't get our asses kicked." He patted Dean on the ass and pulled away to sit back down on his stool. The whole situation was _killing_ him - the look on his brother's face was priceless; Sam had managed to pretty much paint Dean into a corner without even really knowing what he was doing. He grinned at his brother and took a big gulp of beer as he nodded at the dance floor. "They're waitin' for ya sunshine."

"You're dead to me," Dean mumbled through a fake smile for the bouncer's benefit. He turned on his heels and headed toward the stage where his name was being called another time. If he had to do this, then he was going to win it. Judging from the others already in white club t-shirts, it didn't seem to unrealistic a possibility. Dean _was_ a good looking guy. The man who'd spoken through the microphone checked his name off the list and Dean pulled off his jacket, over shirt and finally undershirt, setting them to the side. He could feel the eyes of the men around him on him and he clenched his jaw. It was a good thing Dean wasn't a shy person, otherwise this would really suck.

He pulled on the white shirt next; the material was purposefully too tight, shaping along his chest, barely coming down to his waistline. They were paraded up onto the stage next, lined up as the crowd cheered. Dean couldn't see past the lights shining down on them but he knew Sam was out there, probably laughing it up. Whatever he did next, it had to be about a million times better than this, or worse in Sam's case. He didn't really pay attention to the rules, were there rules? Well whatever the man with the microphone was saying he didn't register. Instead he was working at keeping his body loose, trying to ham it up for the audience and hopefully to make Sam think he wasn't nearly as bothered as he was.

The man came through with a pitcher of water next, starting with the man at the other end of the line and dumping the cool liquid all across his chest, setting the pitcher to the side and rubbing his hands over him. Dean had to bite back his eye roll. Great. Not only was he going to get completely soaked by this, but he was going to be felt up by some random gay dude. There were not _words_ to express how dead Sam was.

Sam licked his lips and leaned back against the bar. Even he had to admit that Dean looked pretty good in the tight white t-shirt. He tugged the collar of his own t-shirt away from his neck and swallowed. Maybe it was a little mean, putting Dean up there in front of all these men. Sam glanced around the bar noticing the appreciative gazes that seemed to be lingering over his brother's form.

Dean's shoulders tensed slightly as the man worked his way down the line. When he stood in front of Dean and laughed about him being nervous, Dean forced himself to smile and shake his head. The minute the cool water was trailing down his shoulders and chest Dean shifted, flexing his muscles, working up the already loud and appreciative crowd. The fabric of the shirt clung tightly to him and he tried not to flinch when the man's hands came down across his chest, rubbing into the liquid. Dean had to keep his eyes on the dark hiding the crowd because the man's expression was far too pleased for his taste.

Sam didn't like the DJ's hands all over his brother's body and he absolutely didn't like that he _didn't like it._ The whole thing was a bizarre sensation, he was watching Dean's body, the tight white t-shirt now translucent where it clung to his brother's well-defined body. He licked his lips again and nodded at the bartender holding up his empty beer bottle. Dean looked good, always looked good - after all the guy was constantly working his muscles in one way or another. Obviously it paid off. Sam sniffed and scratched the back of his neck.

There were four men who were apparently supposed to judge the thing. Dean hadn't seen them before but they stepped forward when the man called toward them. The contest had started off with five men and Dean was more than pleased to be selected as the winner. He stepped forward, ready to claim his prize and be done with this whole ridiculousness, only the DJ simply ushered him to the side and handed him a towel and a dry white shirt. As it turned out, there were rules and since Dean hadn't paid attention before, he had to play a bit of catch up.

Another set of five men were called forward, dressing in the same white shirts and getting soaked with water. Dean pulled his wet t-shirt off and dropped it to the side, watching the people on the stage for a moment before focusing on drying his chest. There was another set of five people after the second and Dean pulled on another tight white t-shirt, frowning over at the winner of the second round. Apparently this was going to be a little bit more difficult then Dean had originally thought.

There were four rounds total, a winner from each round, and Dean observed his competition with narrowed eyes. He was fairly certain he was still better looking than each of them, though the blond to his right was just thin enough - with just the right amount of muscle curve - to make something stir in Dean. It was best to just shrug that off to Dean's healthy appreciation for the human body. Nothing wrong with looking, it wasn’t like there would be any _touching._

Sam found the entire situation more and more uncomfortable as the moments ticked by. He watched Dean chatting occasionally and starting to look entirely _too_ sure of himself. Sam shifted on the stool and tugged at the front of his jeans. It was starting to get a little hot in the club. He licked his lips again and watched his brother standing off the side of the dance floor, eyes scanning the crowd. He had to admit - Dean was the hottest guy up there.

Once more they were led up to the stage, lined up, and a pitcher of water was handed to each. The DJ declared that this was the 'freestyle' round. Which basically translated to making yourself be as sexy as possible as you completely drenched yourself with freezing cold water. The only rules included keeping all clothing on and thoroughly drenching the white shirt. Dean had scored the highest of all four, a sign which seemed pretty good to him, so he was allowed to go last. The first guy was pretty standard, simply dumped the water across his shoulders and chest and smeared it around with his palm. The second guy lifted his shirt and dumped the water down the collar before shoving at the hem and bunching up the fabric to soak up the liquid.

Basically, by this point, Dean was starting to reach the line of uncomfortable and careening straight on through to _awkward._ Because his jeans were tightening slightly and these guys were surprisingly, really _fucking_ hot. Letting his mind mantra, _looking's okay, looking's okay_ , he watched the third guy step up and proceeded to pour the water from the pitcher tantalizingly slow. Dean had no idea what he was going to do to top the level of cheers and cat calls the audience gave the third guy.

Sam ordered another beer; his throat was getting a little dry. It wasn't like Sam couldn't appreciate a male body. He'd even done a little fantasizing of his own one for a while, particularly doing his early years at school and man, this contest was absolutely designed to show off the best of these guys' features. Including Dean's.

The third guy stepped back and Dean clutched at the pitcher, eyes darting out to the crowd. He wished he could see Sam, at least to acknowledge that he wasn't alone in this place full of gay people that could jump him at any moment. Wetting his lips, he lifted the pitcher, hesitating over his chest before lifting it above his head and letting it trickle down across his hair.

The water rolled down the side of his face, splashing down onto his shoulders and Dean shook his head roughly, dragging his hand through the now drenched hair along his head and spiking it up. He adjusted the pitcher so the water flowed over his shoulders and he swayed slightly toward the crowd, hand shoving up roughly along the hem of his shirt and pushing up the fabric. He could feel the water soaking in along his chest, down his back and he once more shook his head to send drops of water flying, letting his lips turn up into his best, most sexy grin.

Sam realized half way through Dean's performance that his mouth was hanging open and he snapped it shut feeling a flush rising up his body. Yeah, so he was turned on - the room was like a snake pit of hormones and sexual tension. It wasn't like it made Sam some kind of freak because it was starting to rub off on him. It was a bunch of hot guys covered in water, sorta, writhing around.

Dean beamed as he slid back into place and the crowd exploded in cheers. The three men to the left of him were staring with slack jaws and Dean knew he had this in the bag. Five minutes later he was toweling off once more, five hundred dollars richer and a lot more smug about Sam's prank. Clearly the man had underestimated just how amazingly hot he was. He tugged on his undershirt, slipped into the green over shirt and slung his jacket over his arm as he weaved through the crowd. People were calling out to him, reaching out to touch his arms, and Dean had to quicken his steps to get to his brother. Not that he thought any of these men could over power him - except maybe that bouncer guy - but he'd rather not have to punch anyone for touching his ass.

Sliding up to Sam at the bar, he smirked and thrust the white t-shirt that had been part of the prize at his brother's chest. "I won you a shirt."

Taking the t-shirt, Sam gripped it hard and dropped it to his lap. The last thing he needed was for Dean to realize that this entire situation was actually starting to light a fire in his crotch. He'd never hear the end of it. Judging by the way that Dean was grinning at the moment, Sam was pretty sure he was never going to hear the end of any of this anyway.

He cleared his throat, eyes trailing down Dean's now fully clothed body then back up to his eyes. "Guess I... owe you a beer," he growled and turned to wave at the bartender. As he turned he noticed a guy a few seats away eyeing his brother and made a point of nailing the guy with a _back off_ glare that pretty much pinned him to his seat. Leaning forward a little Sam stretched his leg out in front of Dean's creating a barricade between Dean and anyone who might potentially be interested.

"Dude, you owe me a fuckin' keg," Dean scoffed and snatched at the beer the minute the bar tender set it down. His blood was still pumping too much from the adrenaline from being on stage and he couldn't put much energy into being angry at Sam. It was sure a hell of a lot easier to win five hundred bucks from pouring water on himself them hustling at pool. His gaze slid across the bar, catching more than one person looking their way. Some of the guy's were trailing appreciative eyes over Sam's strong jaw line and he frowned, shifting closer. "Can we go soon? This place is..." he shrugged, looking down at his beer and pulling it up to his lips. He needed a drink stronger then beer but getting drunk in this bar didn't seem the smartest idea.

Blinking Sam finished up his beer and slid the empty bottle back onto the counter. His fingers were curling into the t-shirt and he glanced at Dean's face out of the corner of his eye. "You were pretty good up there," he grinned and looked over Dean's shoulder shooting another nasty look at a guy who was walking toward his brother. Lifting a hand he grabbed Dean's arm, "yeah, let's get outta here, find somewhere we can get something to eat?"

"Yeah," Dean followed Sam, walking closer then he probably should have but he'd rather not have anyone stop them. "And Sam?" He blew out a breath as they stepped out of the club. "You ever tell anyone about this and I will kick your ass so hard it'll hurt for a week," he grumbled and slid into the arms of his jacket.

As they were walking toward the door the bouncer grabbed Sam's arm and tugged him back. They spoke to each other for a few moments, Sam gesturing to Dean with his chin - a devious smile on his lips. The bouncer patted him on the shoulder and Sam quickened his step to he was by Dean's side again.

Dean eyed Sam for a moment, frowning. "Uh… what did he want?"

Sam slipped his arm around Dean's waist and raised an eyebrow at the bouncer tugging Dean toward the front door. "He asked me where I was taking the _winner_ so soon - I think he was suspicious." Sam squeezed Dean's ass for the bouncer's benefit. Seriously. "I told him that we were both so worked up after your performance I was taking you outside to give you a blow job." He pushed Dean through the door.

Dean sputtered at Sam, eyes wide. "Jesus Sam," he mumbled, surprised at the heat washing up through him at the suggestion. Then he realized that might have sounded weird so he shot his eyes to Sam, "Don't squeeze my ass you freak." He detangled himself from Sam the moment he could and definitely did not think about his brother and _blow jobs_.


	2. Chapter 2

They didn't talk about the gay club or the wet t-shirt contest but it scarcely left either man's mind. The longer he thought about it, the more irritated Dean felt. Even if he'd won some money and it was _horrible_ , it was the moral of the thing. Sam had used those big puppy dog eyes and tried to fool Dean into thinking he actually was _concerned_ for his safety because of these pranks. It kind of stung. Sam was a little too good at this game if you asked Dean. He needed to be brought down a peg or two and this wasn't something that could happen by amateur pranks like tobacco sauce in beer and certainly no more dyes in shampoo or toothpaste.

For an entire week after the gay club Dean did nothing. He could feel Sam watching him occasionally, probably wondering what was coming next. Dean wasn't necessarily doing it to build the suspense; actually it had a lot more to do with him figuring out the right thing. It was like a fine art, and it would only be amazing if he could pick just the right thing. The idea occurred to him randomly on the following Saturday afternoon.

Sam was sitting in front of a computer in the library, eyes scanning across the screen as he slid through old newspaper articles stored in the libraries database. They were researching a house that seemed to be calling to strangers who walked by, once the victims could no longer resist the call the house seemed to swallow them up. Dean and Sam were trying to figure out if it was a ghost, or... well it was hard to say.

Either way, Sam was in the right position for Dean to teach him a lesson. He was already getting narrowed looks from the librarian, who seemed to think they were up to no good the moment they walked in. Dean smirked and walked over to Sam, glancing at the old lady behind the counter before dropping into the chair beside his brother and scooting to his side. "Dude, that old lady is going to blow you up with her eyes," Dean chuckled and slid his hand high on Sam's thighs, curling his fingers into the muscle and shifting forward so his fingers could trace along the inseam.

Sam's leg shot up at his brother's touch and slammed into the table jolting the computer monitor. "What the _hell_?" he hissed.

The lady behind the desk hissed quietly and Dean arched his eyebrows. "Shush Sammy or you'll get us kicked out and the monster house will continue sucking people in," he smirked slightly and tightened his fingers on Sam's thigh. "Find anything?" He asked casually, daring Sam with a look.

Sam shifted his leg slightly, jaw clenched. He looked up and smiled shakily at the Librarian and looked back down at the monitor. "Get your hand offa me you ass," he growled through his clenched teeth. Sometimes, Dean was a god-damned nightmare and what made the entire situation even worse was the way the heat of his brother's hand was burning into his skin even _through_ his jeans.

Dean smirked and shifted his hand to the front of Sam's body, fingers sliding along the hem of the shirt for a moment before slipping under and pressing flat against his stomach. "What's the matter Sammy? Having problems reading?" He smiled at Sam as innocently as he could, catching his lower lip between his teeth to keep from laughing and earning them another glare from the librarian.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?" Sam hissed and moved as if to get up off his chair.

"Payback," Dean breathed, leaning forward to rest his chin on Sam's shoulder and nuzzle into his neck. It was a little odd that he wasn't really that bothered about being this close to Sam and he mentally insisted it was simply because this was another prank. Intense on a different level, sure but it was just a _game_. So what if there was the oddest flair of heat through him? It had been awhile since he touched anyone anyway. "Isn't it a bitch?"

"Dean, you reeeally are crossing some lines here." Sam's skin was tingling where Dean's stubble was rubbing against his flesh and he lifted his shoulder. "Get offa me now or I'm gonna punch you." He shifted away keeping an eye on the Librarian.

"And making me participate in a wet t-shirt contest wasn't crossing lines? Jeez Sammy, what was it you said about not being a pussy?" He smirked and pulled back patting Sam on the top of the thigh as he stood. "I'm gonna flip through old newspapers. Hurry it up; I want to be there before sun down." He was still smirking as he headed back across the Library. Once he disappeared behind a shelf he allowed himself to adjust his pants and shake off why that had been a need in the first place.

Sam cleared his throat and watched his brother as he walked off across the Library. There was a muscle twitching in Sam's jaw and he flashed a very strained smile at the Librarian who was still staring at him. Sam immediately went back to researching even though it was the most boring thing he'd been reading in a while mostly, because it was either that or think about the heat that was creeping through his body because of his brother's touch.

The old newspapers glared back at him and Dean had to take ten minutes to calm his mind enough to think straight. Eventually he sighed and forced his attention back to the papers. It helped to scowl at them as he scanned down the pages, flipping one after another. Something caught his eye a good fifty pages later and he stopped, straightening up and squinting down at the faded newsprint. The article was about a woman who lived in the house almost a hundred years ago. As the story unfolded Dean's eyes widened. He lifted the book the newspapers were kept in and walked swiftly back to his brother, ignoring the faint scowl he received as he dropped into the seat beside him.

"Check this out," he pointed at the newspaper, handing it over to Sam. "It says this woman used to pick up homeless kids off the street and... basically torture them. She thought by killing them in her house and stuffing their body parts in the walls it brought her eternal youth,"

Dean shook his head, meeting Sam's horrified eyes when he looked up. "Yeah dude. Fucked up I know. But if anyone has a reason to be vengeful spirits I'd say those kids do. The article says the police found twelve bodies scattered through the walls but during the time there were fourteen missing children. The two other kids must still be in there somewhere," he wet his lips, shuddering slightly in disgust.

"Great so we have to spend the night creeping around in an abandoned building looking for dead bodies?" Sam hated looking for the bodies of kids. Knowing that anyone was murdered or tortured was horrible but kids... man. Sam shuddered. "Great," he repeated.

"Normally I'd be all gung ho to do this tonight but under the circumstances I think we should go either right now while the sun is still up or tomorrow, either way... let's not be there when the sun goes down," Dean shuddered slightly. He hated kid ghosts about as much as Sam did and he wished they could just get away with burning down the whole house and be done with it.

"Okay," Sam pushed up from the chair and shoved his papers back into his bag. "And Dean?" He turned to look at his brother, "do _not_ touch me while we're in that house or I'll salt and burn _you_." Smiling sweetly at the librarian Sam wandered toward the door.

Dean chuckled as he followed Sam out of the Library. "Alright Sam but that means I can't hold your hand when you get scared," Dean grinned and nudged Sam's shoulder with his.

It was a long afternoon and by the time the Winchesters were back at the motel they were both exhausted, filthy and smelled like rotten wood and smoke. Sam headed straight for the shower, completely exhausted and wanting to just get the dirt off and settled down for the evening. He showered quickly, slung a towel round his hips and went back into the room to get dressed. "That sucked," Sam rubbed another towel over his hair then down his neck, "we should _really_ not take those jobs anymore."

"Next time there's a house calling random strangers from the street, I'll remember that," Dean nodded, still laying face down on the bed where he'd face planted the moment they'd stepped inside. His arms and shoulders ached and he shoved himself up roughly, mumbling something about the worst job ever as he took his turn in the shower.

Dean only stayed under the spray long enough to clean off the grit, looking forward to once more collapsing on his bed and not moving for the next day or so, if not longer. When he stepped back out of the bathroom Sam was already in sweats. Dean tugged on his pants, bypassing the shirt and stretching with a loud yawn. "God I vote for a couple days off. We're gonna be fuckin' sore tomorrow."

Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed when the bathroom door opened; he pushed up quickly and shoved Dean back against the wall beside the door, pinning him there with one hand on his chest and pushing his hips forward against his brother. "Dean," Sam growled into his brother's ear, "if you _ever_ touch me like that again I'm gonna make your life a _living_ hell. You do _not_ want to go there again, you hear me?" Just to add an exclamation point to his warning Sam grabbed Dean's nipple with his free hand and pinched it, _hard._ Then he was gone, a particularly smug grin on his face when he sat back down on the end of his bed.

Dean blinked in confusion a few times, sucking in a quick breath. Heat stirred low in his groin and he shifted uncomfortably, pushing off the wall dragging a hand through his still slightly damp hair. Clearly he needed to get laid, if touches from his _brother_ were affecting him like this. "I think you're all talk Sammy," Dean mumbled rather belatedly, heading to his duffel bag in the pretense of shifting through things.

"All talk?" Sam laughed, flopped back and rolled over to face Dean. Yeah, so maybe lying on his stomach was a bit strategic. Maybe he'd felt a twitch and didn't want to even ponder what the hell was going on. _Maybe_ Sam had finally snapped and needed to take a page out of Dean's book and go out and pick up a nice girl somewhere, blow off a little steam.

"Yeah, all talk," Dean dropped down on the mattress facing Sam, letting his hand fall across his lap to hide any evidence that he may possibly be a little aroused. But only a little. "We both know there's not really much you can do to make my life living hell. You even dyed my hair blue _and_ teeth and I rolled with it," he chuckled and shook his head.

"Dude, you are _so_ gonna end up takin' this to a place you do _not_ want to go." Sam's eyes darted up to Dean's. "There is so much I could do, you tellin' me that didn't bother you at all?" Sam's cheeks pinked up at little, "what I just did?"

Dean shrugged and dropped back on his bed, rolling over on his side away from Sam. "I'm exhausted dude and totally not in the mood for this. Night," he squeezed his eyes shut and told himself that yes, it bothered him very much what Sam did. Or at least it bothered him how very _little_ it bothered him.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled. He rolled to the side and kicked his covers out so he could get under them. "Night." He sighed and tucked an arm under his pillow. He'd much rather have been talking to Dean than thinking about the things they'd done all afternoon.

-=-=-=-

They lounged around the next day, not waking until almost noon and then spending a good majority of the afternoon in their respective beds. At some point Dean managed to motivate himself enough to roll off the bed and drop his legs off the edge, sighing heavily. He rubbed at his eyes for a long moment before looking over at Sam. His brother seemed to barely be awake and Dean stood, taking a couple steps forward and dropping down beside him. "Want me to order some Chinese or something?" His whole body ached from the intensity that was yesterday's hunt and he knew Sam had to feel just as bad. "Or I could go get us something from that noodle place down the road."

Sam groaned when Dean's weight jiggled his mattress underneath him. “Whatever," he mumbled.

Reaching out, Dean hesitated for just a moment before laying his hand on Sam's shoulder. "You feelin' alright? Want some Advil?" He squeezed softly, lips tilting up in just the slightest smile.

"Mhmm, do that again," Sam's muscles were aching and the pressure of Dean's hand actually made it feel better for a few seconds.

Dean swallowed, surprised by the flare of heat Sam's soft moan shot through him. "Roll over," he shoved at Sam's shoulder, getting him onto his stomach. Dean slid over and curled his fingers around Sam's shoulders, rubbing firmly. He was likely to be just as sore as Sam was but this sort of touch was easy for him because it went right back to his bare basics, the one fact that he stuck with always. _Take care of your brother_.

In all things - most things - Dean did just that. And even if he played pranks and was sometimes a little ruthless to him that was okay because he was the one behind him. If anyone else were to try those things Dean would kick their ass halfway across the country. So he resolutely ignored the heat in the pit of his stomach and rolled the palms of his hands along Sam's shoulder blades.

"OOOh... yeah, okay," Sam turned his head to the side and wriggled a little to get comfortable. "I forgive you for everything, I swear," he moaned quietly and turned his head back the other way, "just keep doing that." His brother's hands felt good, a little rough but strong and the touch was good on his burning muscles.

Chuckling softly, Dean continued to work the muscles beneath his hands, "Gee thanks Sammy," he rolled his eyes and flinched slightly as he knelt beside Sam to straighten his arms above the back. His hands slid down the flesh, along the slight bumps of the spine, over a faint scar Sam had gotten a few years ago when he fell down the flight of stairs at a warehouse. Starting at the strip of skin right above Sam's waist line, he rolled his palms down into Sam's back, pushing up and kneading down into the muscles.

Letting out a deep breath Sam smiled, eyes still closed, feeling his skin start to tingle under his brother's hands. He was too tired and sore to even worry if he shouldn't be feeling anything like that because _damn_ this was good. "Want me to do you after?" Sam's eyes popped open, "I mean - I can rub your back if you want..."

Dean thought about Sam's large, rough hands over his back and he swallowed. "Uh... sure," he nodded slowly and shifted to press heavier weight into Sam's back, smirking when he heard the bones pop. "Should order Chinese though, I'm fuckin' starving," he mumbled and continued to roll his palms upward. The way Sam moved on the bed beneath his hands was doing things to Dean that really just shouldn't be happening and he hesitated for a moment. "Any particular places need attention?" Best to get it done and over with.

"Lower back," Sam moaned out softly and shifted his hips a little to the side. He was a bit unsure of what was going on with him; being touched by Dean was stirring up feelings that he wasn't sure he was ready for. Then, Dean would move his fingers a certain way and Sam's mind would wander off, back to the pleasure. "Chinese food," he murmured.

Continuing to spiral his fingers down Sam's back, kneading down into the lowest part, Dean swallowed and wet his lips. "Chinese food," he agreed, wondering how they'd both seemingly been reduced to a few brief words. His eyes skid along the flesh, resting on the low waste line of Sam's sweats. Suddenly insane with curiosity, Dean slipped his finger just under the material, touching secret, forbidden flesh. Dean's eyes were fixed on the spot where his finger disappeared beneath cotton and elastic, his other hand rest still on the small of Sam's back.

He couldn't help it, not at all, Sam's hips rolled forward gently into the mattress as his brother's finger slid along the waist band of his sweats. He coughed; trying to disguise his movement then rolled over realizing only at the last moment that meant Dean's hands dragged across his side and came to rest on his abs. "Should you call?" His abs rippled a little under his brother's hand. "Food, uh, I mean." Reaching up Sam ran a hand over his hair.

Staring down into his brother's face, Dean slowly withdrew his hands and climbed off the bed. His heart was racing oddly in his chest; mind reeling trying to figure out what it meant that Sam hadn't said anything about that his finger was practically on his bare ass. "Yeah, I'll call," he nodded, clearing his throat and walking slowly toward the table, pulling up his cell phone. With his back to Sam he took a moment to adjusted his pants and pull up his phone. "What do you want?" He asked, turning over his shoulder. "To eat."

Sam couldn't manage to do much more than stare at Dean's chest, _what the hell was going on?_ "Rice." His voice was thick and Sam realized that it wasn't much of an answer, "chicken fried rice, and an eggroll or... somethin'." He looked up at his brother's face and tried a smile on for size. It wasn't _that_ big a deal, Sam was just a bit desperate for physical attention so it felt good, maybe better than it should but it wasn't that big a deal. He noticed he was nodding slightly and blinked a few times then took a deep breath.

Dean turned back to face the wall as he called information and got the nearest Chinese food place. They charged more to deliver but that was alright, Dean really didn't feel like driving at all. He wanted to just collapse back on the bed and lay around. Or maybe continue giving Sam a massage. Shaking his head of the thoughts, Dean ordered their food and flipped his phone shut, crossing to the mini fridge and pulling out a couple beers. He handed one to Sam silently and dropped down on the edge of Sam's bed, twisting off the cap. "So... I've been thinkin' and I'm done with the prank thing," he glanced over at Sam. "Seriously, this isn't some bigger prank. I'm sick of having to watch my step and whatever okay?"

Taking the bottle Sam's smile warmed, "okay, I'd like that. It gets old after a while, yeah?" He held up his bottle, "here's to having some peace."

Nodding with an equally warm smile, Dean clinked his bottle to Sam's, "Indeed." He tipped his bottle back, draining half the contents and bringing it back down to his hands. After a moment of hesitation he set the beer on the nightstand and spread out on the mattress beside Sam, crooking his arm behind his head and kicking his feet up.

"Dean?" Sam shifted over to give his brother more room. Moments after their agreement he already found himself suspicious of what Dean was up to. "What... you want this bed?" He turned to glance at his brother's face wondering what was going through his mind.

With a frown Dean turned to look at him, "What? No I... oh," he pushed up. "Sorry. Was just closer," he shrugged and groaned as he pushed himself off the bed, staggering over to his own bed and dropping down. It had just seemed natural to lie beside Sam but there was all this weirdness between them, and clearly Sam must have felt it as much as he did.

"I didn't mean ya had to move," Sam muttered against the mouth of his beer bottle. He took a few big gulps, "how long till the food gets here?" Sighing Sam shifted back a little bit so he could lean against the headboard.

"They said thirty minutes," Dean mumbled and rolled on his mattress to consider Sam. His brother had grown so much over the years, filling out, shaping up to become less of a boy and more of a man. Dean didn't often notice the strong curve of his muscles or the smooth tan stretch of skin, but then, that wasn't something Dean _should_ be noticing. "Think I'm gonna go shower."

Sam leaned forward, "want me to give you your backrub first?" He wasn't sure why but he had actually kind of been looking forward to touching Dean, moving his hands over his brother like he used to do when he was younger. It used to be like that when Dean and Dad came home from a hard job Sam would clean up Dean's cuts and scrapes, he knew his brother better then.

Dean considered Sam for a moment before shifting and stretching out on his stomach. "Yeah, okay," his heart fluttered slightly and he stretched his arms up to tuck under his head.

Sliding his empty beer bottle on to the night stand, Sam pushed up out of bed and padded over to his duffel. After rooting around in the side pockets for a few moments he pulled out a small bottle and moved over to stand beside Dean's bed.

There were a few ways he could do this; he could lean over the side of the bed but his back was already aching, he could sit on the side of the bed but he wasn't sure about getting the right amount of leverage. Dragging the back of his hand across his mouth he kneeled on the bed and swung one leg over Dean's body so he could settle himself across his brother's thighs.

Sam popped the top of the bottle open and squeezed some oil into his hands, rubbed them together to warm them up, then slid them on to the small of Dean's back and ran them straight up either side of his brother's spine to curve around the sides of his neck. Dean's back was firm and Sam could feel the knots of his muscles, "you gotta slow down dude," Sam swallowed, "you're gettin' too old to keep working so hard." Sam grinned as his hands worked Dean's right shoulder; long fingers curling over the top then sliding down to work the top of his brothers back again.

"Shuttup," Dean mumbled, shifting slightly under Sam's touch. He could hardly handle the way Sam's hands seemed to burn under him, slick and moving in the best pattern and roll he'd ever felt. "I... what's with the oil dude?" He tried to sound like his usual, teasing self. It came out a lot more husky sounding then he anticipated and heat coiled low in his belly, causing his cock to stir and thicken slightly. Dean buried his head in the pillow and inhaled the cottony smell.

Sam's hands slid lower, the heels of his palms running along either side of Dean's backbone until he reached the small of his brother's back. "Sweet almond oil," he said softly as his fingers speared out to massage along Dean's waist band. "You never know ... I kept thinking one day I might, you know," he shrugged even though Dean couldn't see him. Digging his thumbs into the strong muscle just above Dean's hips Sam moved them in small circles feeling the tension leave his brother's back.

"You might what?" Dean's brain wasn't really on the highest processing level. Blood was rushing through him, focusing in on the touches and - almost unconsciously - Dean shifted his hips, rolling them slowly.

"Might find someone..." Sam's voice trailed off a little and he sighed. Running his index finger up the furrow of Dean's back Sam noticed the feel of each knob on Dean's spine at the top of his back. Both hands flat again he smoothed them firmly from Dean's shoulders straight down to the gentle curve just at the base of his spine, back up again then dug his strong fingers into the tight muscles along the side of Dean's neck.

"Might still," Dean muttered and rolled his head forward to give Sam more access. He had no idea his brother was so fucking good at massages. Now that he knew though, he definitely was going to take more advantage of it. And the fact that involved Sam sitting on his thighs... well that was just another perk. It was nice to have the weight on him, comforting in a way he wasn't used too. " _Damn_ you're good at this," he groaned into the pillow.

Sam worked the pads of his fingers up the back of Dean's neck into the soft hair at the nape. His fingers pushed up then slid down a few times then he smoothed his hands across the top of Dean's shoulders and curled them over digging in with his thumbs. "Mhmm, took a class at the YMCA." He huffed out a laugh; it wasn't like he ever got to actually do it so he was kind of out of practice. "I can do a bit of Deep tissue massage as well," both hands slid to Dean's right arm working his bicep. "Can try it on ya next time if you want."

"Uh huh," Dean was very okay with the idea of a next time. His hips continued their tiny roll down into the mattress, seeking friction for what was now a complete and total hard on. _It's the massage. The touch,_ he insisted in his mind, trying to pretend that it wasn't the fact that the hands on him were _Sam's_ that affected him so much.

Sam shifted back a little, hands pushing the waistband of Dean's boxers down so he could span his hands across the top of his brother's ass thumbs digging into his back as his fingers gently worked just to the side of Dean's abs. "Feel okay?" Sam's voice was soft, he could tell Dean was relaxing and leaned over a little to see the flush on his brother's cheeks. Smiling he ran his hands back and forth between Dean's hips.

Chuckling harshly, Dean's fingers curled into the sheet and he nodded roughly. "Y-yeah, feels okay," he had to swallow a few times in attempt to calm the heat and he tried to work up the motivation to tell Sam to get off him before he came in his boxers and gave himself some sort complex. ‘Cause seriously? Coming from a back massage from your _brother_. Definite complex material. Even if this was probably the best massage he'd ever had.

"I, uh, can…" Sam's hands stilled on Dean's back for a few moments, "I know how to do chest muscles too if you want." He circled his palm a few times on Dean's back. Sucking his bottom lip for a few moments he realized that he was getting a little warm. Dean's muscles were well-defined, strong and Sam found himself tracing a long scar across the top of Dean's shoulder.

 _Chest massage_. That would mean he would have to roll over and Sam would be able to see how ridiculously turned on he was. His mind screamed no, no, no, and he opened his mouth to say it was probably a good time for that shower but the word, "okay," slipped out instead and he internally groaned. Damn rebellious mind.

Sam kneeled up and patted Dean on the ass, "'kay roll over." He wasn't entirely sure this was the _best_ idea he'd ever had considering how much he was enjoying _touching_ his brother's body. Hell, Sam licked his lips nervously; the food would be there soon so it wasn’t like - he shook his head. There was definitely something wrong with the way his mind had been working lately.

Rolling over, Dean took a deep breath and tugged the blanket up around his waist, hoping his hard on was as obvious as it felt. His eyes slid up Sam's impossibly long body and focused on his eyes. "Okay."

Swallowing, hard, Sam settled back on his brother's thighs. _God_ , Dean was hard. Sam's eyes darted up to his brother's face and the corner's of his lips twitched into a smile. "Okay," he echoed reaching for the small bottle by his leg.

Popping the top open once more he poured some more oil in his palm, flipped the top closed and tossed the bottle aside. Rubbing his hands together he licked lips nervously then slid his hands straight up Dean's body, ran his fingers along his brother's collar bones to find the right marker then started to work the firm muscles of his brother's chest with the heels of each palm. "You got," Sam had to clear his throat to get the words out, "nice muscles." He grimaced inwardly, _what a stupid thing to say._

"Thanks," Dean smiled, body arching into Sam's touch. "So suave," he added, smirking this time until Sam hit a particularly sensitive spot and the smirk died, followed by a soft moan. His mind registered the fact that he should have been freaking out. Sam was practically straddling him and their _cocks_ were almost close enough to touch. That thought had his moan gaining strength and he tried - and failed - to bite it back. "S'good," he mumbled in attempts to cover the noise.

"Dean..." Sam’s cock was swelling with each moan; he had no clue what the _hell_ was going on. Okay - that was stupid. He _knew_ what was going on. Sam and Dean were with each other all the damn time, they hardly ever had physical contact with anyone and this was good - especially when they were trying to deal with the psychological aftermath of what had happened earlier. Sam shifted forward a little fingers moving gently over his brother's neck then ghosting down along his shoulders.

Clearing his throat around the lump of indecision building there, Dean shifted up slightly, into Sam's touch, up for more. Whatever the hell more might be. Of course, Dean knew _exactly_ what more was. "Sam, I want to kis-"

A loud knock at the door sent Sam reeling off him almost at lightning speed and Dean fell back on the bed, blowing out a heavy breath and leaving Sam to deal with the delivery man. That was either really good timing or really _bad_. It was best for Dean not to try and decide which.

Flinging the door open Sam stood there then realized that the front of his sweats gave away the fact that he was incredibly aroused. Sliding back slightly behind the door he peered out and ran a hand through his hair. "Hi," he said then realized he needed to pay. "Just a minute." He slipped over to his jacket and yanked his wallet out then peered around the door again.

The delivery guy had a bemused expression on his face and Sam glared and handed the guy $40. At this point he didn't care if it was too much; he just wanted the guy gone. Snatching the bag of food Sam pulled back and slammed the door shut. Throwing the bag on the table he moved quickly across the room to the bathroom. "Be right back," he said over his shoulder.

Dean had managed to will down his hard on, thankfully he had practice in the matters, and he climbed out of bed the minute Sam was in the bathroom. The safest thing was to pull on jeans, which he did quickly, but his chest was still slightly slick with oil and he didn't want to ruin the fresh laundry they'd just done. So he crossed shirtless to the table and sorted through the food, setting Sam's to the side before grabbing his own.

His mind was reeling, wondering if Sam was going to come out of the bathroom and slug him because, basically, he'd just asked his brother for a fucking _kiss_. Heat sparked up in him at the thought and he sighed heavily, walking back to his bed with his food and sitting on the edge. At least his back was less sore, that was one bonus, even if it meant he was going to have to deal with the ghost warmth of his brother's hands.

After trying to calm himself down for about ten minutes, figuring out what was going on Sam took a series of deep breaths and opened the door. He was a little bit taken aback to see that Dean was still bare-chested, and worse, glistening in the half light in the room. Wandering back over to the table Sam sat and pulled some food toward him. "Taste good?" He opened a box and fished out a couple of egg rolls biting off the end of one.

Nodding, Dean stuffed more food into his mouth because he didn't think he was going to get his voice to work for a bit. He thought things might shift back into whatever their usual normality was the moment Sam came out of the bathroom but now his cock was just stirring up again and he couldn't stop thinking about the what if. What if the delivery guy had shown up just _two_ minutes later? Then Dean would have gotten to taste Sam's lips and he _really_ wanted that. Which was _really_ bad. Clearing his throat after he swallowed, he let his eyes flicker across Sam's body before forcing them away. "So I thought we'd uh you know, look for another hunt. Get on the road tomorrow."

"'Kay," Sam mumbled around a mouthful of rice. He chewed a few times, eyes moving over the oily sheen on his brother's chest. "You want," Sam wiped a couple of pieces of rice of his mouth, "some of my rice?"

Dean looked down at his beef whatever dish and nodded, pushing up and walking over to the table. He dropped down in the free chair and set the carton in front of Sam, pushing the food to the side with his fork. This close he could smell the familiar scent of Sam that probably lingered over him all the time from the fact that they were _always_ together. Only now it was much more noticeable. "Thanks," he gave Sam a warm smile and looked away.

Sam pushed his food closer to Dean, "that was kind of weird huh?" He looked down at his plastic fork and fiddled with it, spinning it on the table a few times. He shifted on his chair, leaning back. He wasn't sure what kind of answer he was looking for except maybe he wanted some sort of confirmation that it _was_ crazy.

There was little question in Dean's mind as to what the _that_ was referring to. Shrugging, Dean pulled Sam's food toward him and took a few bites of rice. "I guess," he mumbled around the food, snatching up one of the eggrolls and taking a bite.

"'Cause, I mean, it's not like that was bad," Sam blinked up at Dean then looked back at his fork. "Was it?" Sam sat back up and leaned his elbows on the table, "bad, I mean." Sam knew his brother hated it when he tried to get him to talk about things like this but he just couldn't help it.

"No, definitely not bad," Dean swallowed hard and pushed up from the table to grab them two new beers, bringing them back a moment later and setting one in front of his brother. He twisted off the cap of his and tossed it onto the table, pulling several long drinks from it before setting it down. "I don't really know _what_ it was," he added quietly, poking at his food with the fork clenched between his fingers.

"Yeah," Sam nodded and reached for one of the beers. That was pretty much all Sam could muster to talk about; he was out of ideas to explain what was going on before the food arrived. He pressed his palms flat on the table in front of him, looked back up at Dean's face and smiled.

Dean met Sam's eyes and he couldn't help returning the smile, shifting in his seat slightly until their knees rested together. There seemed to be a pretty good chance things were beginning to change between them and Dean wasn't completely certain he was ready for it. But he wanted it, whatever _it_ ended up being. "So, if that guy was like, two minutes later?" He dropped his gaze, letting Sam fill in the pieces to his unspoken question to the reaction he never got a chance to see.

"Yeah?" Sam's eyebrows drifted up a little, "yeah." He could feel the heat from Dean's knee and it was a little crazy-making. "Wait, what would have happened?" Sam blinked a few times, "If, you know, the guy got here two minutes later." Sam stretched his leg out under the table sliding it along Dean's.

Letting his own leg rest more firmly against Sam's now extended one, he kept his eyes fixed on the food he was barely picking at. "I... would have finished my question," Dean shrugged slightly, eyes lifting to Sam. "You know, about ... kissing you," he swallowed thickly and wet his lips, fingers curling around the beer and bringing it up to his lips. "And then-" he shrugged once more and set the beer back on the table.

"I guess I woulda answered," Sam looked back down at his hands and lifted them off the table, "I guess. Right?" His hands left damp prints on the table and he pulled them back to his lap and wiped the palms on his jeans. He laughed softly, "nervous." It was bizarre. Completely bizarre.

Dean nodded and shifted in his seat, facing Sam completely. "Yeah. So you would have answered," he wet his lips, letting his eyes travel along his brother's face. "Should I? I mean, it's probably, I should go over there. And we should stop talking about this. Right? That's what I should do?" He blinked a few times, not sure which answer he wanted from his brother. His fucking _brother_ that was making him feel like he was a teenager all over again, eager for his first kiss.

Sam glanced over at the bed, down at the table and then back at Dean. "If you want to, I suppose you should." Sam's fingers curled hard into his thighs and he slid his leg along Dean's again. Reaching up one hand to brush his hair back from his face.

Dean also glanced back at the bed then let his eyes shift slowly back to Sam's. Wetting his lips, he shifted slightly forward on the chair. "And if I don't want too?"

Almost immediately Sam's eye darted back up to his brother's. His mouth was dry, his heart felt like it was beating harder, louder somehow; felt like Dean should be able to hear it. For once, Sam didn't have anything to say and if he could have actually spoken he would have pointed it out to Dean because it would have amused his brother. Because there suddenly didn't seem to be enough breath in his lungs, Sam just shrugged and dipped his head down so he could peer at Dean from under his bangs.

Reaching out slowly, giving Sam every opportunity to stop him, Dean let his fingers rest high on Sam's thigh, close enough to feel the heat coming from the man's hips. He swallowed and shifted forward, leaning closer until their lips were just inches from each other and all Dean could do was stare down. "Are you gonna tell me to stop?" He whispered into their shared air, fingers tightening then releasing.

Sam licked his lips again, realizing he seemed to be doing it an awful lot. "I. No, I'm not?" Sam's hand slid forward on his own thigh until his fingers slid just slightly in between his brother's. "No," he whispered, "I'm not." Sam inched forward until he was on the very edge of his chair and could feel each breath that Dean exhaled.

Dean's heart lurched in his chest and he raised his free hand to rest just barely along Sam's cheek. His shoulders shook slightly as he tilted his head and closed the gap between them. The first gentle brush of lips together was kind of weird. Like... well, like kissing your brother. Dean pulled back slightly, wet his lips, and leaned forward once more. This time he let his lips rest against Sam's, shifting just enough to slide together and a wave of little sparks shot through him, causing him to press a little firmer and open his mouth just a fraction of an inch.

Sam's body sort of folded a little, his shoulders curled forward, his fingers slid forward to twine with Dean's. The instant Dean's lips parted Sam's breath hitched and his tongue slid past his own lips thick and clumsy - to nudge gently against Dean's mouth. He moaned softly as the heat of his brother's mouth soaked into him - the fire from the touch inching its way through Sam's veins.

Letting his tongue slide out against Sam's had him moaning, hand along Sam's face sliding back into his hair and curling. He shifted as close to Sam as he could get on the chair, legs sliding together, tongue shoving forward to pass Sam's lips into his mouth. He took his time sweeping the foreign area, leaning all the dips and curves, learning the taste that was underneath beer and Chinese food. Another moan fell from his lips as he tried to shift closer.

Sam's hand fumbled blindly to the table top as he realized he couldn't get any closer to his brother's body. He _wanted_ to be closer. Slipping off his chair Sam dropped down to his knees; his lips fell away from Dean's and he blinked up at his brother's watery green eyes then shuffled forward on his knees to settle in the V of Dean's legs.

Sam's shaking hands settled on Dean's thighs as he tilted his head and leaned up to kiss his brother's bottom lip. There was the most intense sensation running through Sam's body, like electricity; he sucked on Dean's bottom lip and lapped at it gently with the tip of his tongue.

Almost instantly Dean's hands fell to Sam's shoulders, sliding down his arms slightly then back up, cupping along the back of his neck. He moaned as Sam sucked at his lip then dipped down to once more seal their mouths together. Dean slid his tongue along Sam's, letting them circle around each other lazily as his fingers threaded up through his brother's hair. It was all so very good and he pulled Sam's body into his, hooking his legs around the man's. His brain was stuck on overload mode, the only thoughts seeming to register were _more_ and _Sam_.

Gasping, Sam's body shivered as Dean's legs wrapped around his body. His hands moved up his brother's thighs then curved past his hips and slid around the small of Dean's back. Tearing his mouth away from Dean's Sam pressed forward until he could lean his forehead against Dean's chest. "Dean..." Sam's voice was sand-papery, thick and low. He tightened his arms around Dean's waist.

Dean had to swallow a few times and even then his voice was thick coming out, "Yeah," he nodded, completely and totally thrown by how amazingly fucking hot this was. There was no logic behind it, he knew that much, and his mind reeled trying to figure out what the next best course of action was. Dean slid his fingers through Sam's hair slowly and blew out a long breath. "That was good. Very," he chuckled softly and tightened his legs around Sam's body.

Sam nodded slowly against Dean's chest and took a couple of deep breaths. What was running through his head over and over was _now what?_. What do you do when you've just kissed your brother and it was probably the hottest thing that you've ever done? What's next? Without loosening his hold on Dean Sam blurted out, "What now?"

If that wasn't the definition of a loaded question Dean didn't know what was. He shrugged slightly and continued sliding his hands through Sam's hair. "I guess we should probably stop. Think about things. Before we cross any lines, well, any _more_ lines," he sighed softly and let his head rest on the top of Sam's. "This is pretty big."

Sam could be quite happy to sit there with Dean's fingers running through his hair. The warmth of it just trickled down his neck and body and pooled somewhere in his belly. "Okay," he whispered against his brother's chest. He could smell the almond oil mingling with Dean's shampoo and he turned his head slightly so the corner of his mouth was against Dean's flesh.

Dean could feel the burn of Sam's lips on his skin and he shifted slightly, trying to get more despite what he’d said. His body felt alive, tingling in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. Or possibly ever. "Sammy," he breathed, body sliding to the very edge of the chair to press against his brother's.

Being wrapped up in _Dean_ like that, was different, not in a bad way - it sort of relaxed Sam, soothed him; his breathing slowed again even though his heart was still trying to dig its way out of his chest with every beat. He didn't want to be the one who let go first but he had a feeling Dean wasn't going to and, as usual, his brother was right. _Big_. _Time_. _Thing_.

"So,” Dean loosened his hold enough for Sam to pull back, swallowing slightly. "We should. I don't know get out for a bit? Walk? Drive? Somewhere that we won't be tempted to- I mean, well, that we just _won't_ because I'm fairly certain I'll always be tempted," he chuckled softly. "Now that I know..."

Nodding slowly Sam stared up into his brother's eyes for a few moments then pushed up from his knees. Reaching out he cupped Dean's cheek with his hand and rubbed his thumb across his brother's bottom lip. "Drive somewhere?"

He took a few steps past Dean letting his hand trail off the man's face grabbed his t-shirt off the chair. Socks. He needed socks and jeans. He looked around the room and took two steps back to stand behind Dean; he pulled his brother back so that Dean was leaning against him and reached forward to slid his hands over Dean's shoulders down his chest so he could memorize the curves and lines of his brother's body.

In the next moment Dean was standing up, turning, his hand cupped under Sam's jaw, pulling him in and sealing their lips together once more. It was different, standing, bodies being flushed together as his hands slid back to Sam's hair and his tongue shoved roughly forward into Sam's mouth. The very idea of not kissing him had seemed practically impossible, especially since he knew Sam's tongue would slide along his, just as eagerly. Dean moaned and tightened his fingers, stepping in to deepen the kiss further.

Sam felt his knees almost give out and his hands moved quickly to Dean's denim clad hips. He liked the way his hand fit over the curve of his brother's body; he could feel the jut of Dean's hip bones under his palms. Sam's tongue made its way easily back into his brother's wet heat; gliding over every surface, exploring, tasting. His fingers stretched out barely digging in to the gentle curve of his brother's ass. The whole kissing thing was _way_ better than Sam had ever imagined kissing _could_ be. A moan rose to his lips again and his hips rolled forward unconsciously making him stagger slightly and lean into his brother.

Dean pulled back with a sharp gasp, eyes flickering open. He panted heavily and held Sam's face in his palms, eyes skittering across his face before he brought their lips together once more for extended brushes, letting his tongue glide along Sam's lips before he sucked the bottom lip in. The small, quiet noises Sam was making were so much better than any he had ever heard and he dragged his teeth along the flesh before pulling back once more. "Jesus Sammy," he whispered voice hoarse and rough with the constant arousal.

Shaking, _completely_ worked up, hard, aching everywhere, chilled, overheated - you name it - Sam felt it. He took a step back from Dean, smiled and scrubbed his hands over his face. Dropping his hand self-consciously to cover the obvious erection straining against his sweats Sam blushed. "Drive?" Brushing past Dean he moved over to snatch his jeans up off the floor and dropped down onto the end of his bed with his fingers clutching his pants tightly.

Dean was compelled with the urge to _touch_ and he had to force himself toward the bathroom door. "Yeah. Drive. I just uh, need a minute," he swallowed and glanced at Sam with a brief smile before disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. There was no way he was going to be able to calm himself down after all _that_. Well, there was one way, and Dean needed that release so bad he was practically shaking.

As soon as the door closed Sam fell back on the bed and slid his hand down under the soft material of his sweats to wrap his fingers around his shaft. He was achingly hard, his shaft swollen, heavy, thick - just thinking about his brother made his flesh twitch in his palm. Curling his fingers around himself Sam pushed back further onto the bed and rubbed his hand slowly up and down.

The thought of Dean's lips, the smell of the oil still on Sam's cheek, their tongues, images flashed through Sam's mind as he worked his cock. His hips pushed up off the bed as his back arched; his free hand clawed at the quilt until he pulled up a fist full of the material. He could still feel Dean's hands on his neck, in his hair, _fuck_ \- the way Dean's fingers tangled through his long hair was perfect. Sam's cock twitched and pulsed beneath his grip and he could feel that fire Dean had started flare through the rest of his body.

All Dean had been intending to do was peek his head out for a quick look to make sure Sam was okay ‘cause he was fairly certain he heard something odd. As it turned out, the something odd happened to be Sam, legs sprawled open on the bed, hand shoved down his pants and moving slowly up and down.

Dean's breath caught in his throat, his own hand dropping almost instantly to his crotch and fumbling with the button and zipper. He needed some sort of relief right _now_ before he lost his mind. Dean bit down on his lip and walked slowly to his bed, sitting on the edge and facing Sam, shifting his hips enough to drag down his jeans and boxers just enough to free his aching cock. A soft moan fell from his lips; eyes fixed on the moving hand in Sam's pants until he could match the pace perfectly and imagine it was Sam's hand on him. He moaned again, louder, and brushed his thumb along the slit.

Sam's head fell to the side, eyes glassy and wide. His eyes drank his brother's body in, his cock, the glistening tip, the way his hand moved at the same time as Sam's own, Dean's heaving chest. When he heard Dean moan Sam gasped and arched up off the bed into his own hand; his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth fell open as he dragged in as much air as he could. Rolling his hips up time and again, Sam could feel the dark heat uncoiling within him. His eyes sprang open and he rolled his head to the side as he gasped and moaned, writhing on the bed his eyes locked with Dean's. "Dean..." and he came. It felt like his heart was going to smash right out of his chest; his cock pulsed so hard that Sam's shoulders lurched forward every time his he spurted his hot come up his chest. He twitched and writhed and eventually fell back on the bed, panting and staring at his brother's flushed face and _perfect_ fucking body.

"Jesus," Dean grunted, working his fist as quickly as he could. His own release came only moments after Sam stopped shifting on the bed and he groaned out his brother's name, eyes remaining locked together as thick ropes of come slid across his chest. Dean stroked himself slowly until he fell soft then he dropped his hand, blinking a few times. "Damn," he breathed and fell backward on the bed, pulling in a sharp breath of air. That certainly wasn't what he expected and Dean had this feeling they were really just going to have to adjust to things not being what anyone expected.

Sam closed his eyes and let his hands fall to his sides and laughed softly. "S'good," he murmured trying to blow his hair off his face. Giving up he flung a hand up and shoved his sweat-damp hair off his forehead. He listened to his own heart beat slowly, falling back into its regular rhythm. He was still sprawled across the bottom of his bed, sweats down over his hips, come drying slowly on his chest. And, he was still mere feet away from his brother.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, pushing up after a moment and standing to tug at his boxers and jeans. "So... how about that drive?" He smirked slightly, heading for the bathroom and automatically wetting a cloth under the faucet to clean off his come stained chest.

Pushing up weakly, Sam struggled out of his sweats and used them to wipe his belly and chest. Tossing his sweats on the floor by the bed he stood up, swayed for a few moments, grinned and then stumbled around trying to get into his jeans. He managed eventually and fell back on the bed without bothering to do them up, he just lay there arms and legs thrown every which way on the bed.

Dean headed back into the room and stopped, eyes fixing on Sam. "Damnit Sam, you keep laying like this and I don't think there's going to be any driving," he stepped closer, reaching out to run his fingers just along the open zipper.

Huffing out a laugh Sam struggled to sit up again smiling up at Dean. He grabbed Dean's hand and pressed their palms flat together like he used to when they were kids, measuring their fingers against each others. Sighing Sam twined their fingers together. "Where we gonna drive? Just around?" He used Dean's hand to pull himself up then let go of his brother reluctantly to do up his jeans and search for his t-shirt and jacket.

"Yeah, nowhere special," he grinned and headed to the duffel bag to pull on a shirt, over shirt and his jacket. Driving and thinking. That's what they needed. And hopefully they'd be able to make sense of this whole thing before anything else happened.


	3. Chapter 3

As it turned out, thinking was what they needed to bring them to the realization of exactly what was happening. They had kissed, more than once, and jacked off, well, together although separately. And this was really just fucking _wrong_. Dean knew, accompanied with the swell of guilt that he was taking advantage of his little brother, and Sam knew it, refusing to meet Dean's eyes.

They didn't talk about _it_ , and they didn't repeat it either. After the drive they headed back to the motel and spent the rest of the evening in mostly awkward silence. Dean kept imagining the taste of Sam's lips until he had to shake his head to get the thought to go away.

Sam busied himself finding their next hunt, as if the sooner they left this motel the better it would be. The easier it would be to forget. Dean hoped that was the case because, holy shit, you can't just go around kissing - and kind of jacking off with - your younger brother. Not only was it illegal but it was immoral. And Dean might do a lot of bad shit but that was a line. But the taste of Sam's lips still haunted him and the next morning, as he and Sam packed up their stuff silently, it was all he could think about.

It was strange how something could be fantastic, strange, wrong and then just feel kind of inexplicable all at the same time. Sam's mind certainly ran the gamut of emotions the morning they left _the_ hotel room. It would be good to get on the road, put some distance between them and _the kissing_.

Sam noticed that Dean's eyes tended to move away from his when they faced each other, how they seemed to be paying careful attention to every touch, every possible collision of their bodies. Even once they piled into the Impala and pulled out onto the road everything felt different; a bit strained like the bond between them was spread too thin. Sam leaned against the window and watching the miles speed by only glancing every now and again across at the driver's side of the car to see Dean focused on the road. Sam wasn't sure what he'd had expected but the silence and withdrawal made sense; they were brothers and brothers didn't do what they had done in _that_ motel room.

Generally, Dean tried to pretend that they were getting back to normal. By the time they reached their new destination and headed to the coroner's office in FBI get ups, he was even able to make stupid jokes like usual. And Sam rolled his eyes, like usual. But that tension was there, an underlying pulsing that shot through him any time his eyes lingered too long on Sam's lips. Which was far too often, though he'd never admit that out loud.

It wasn't the kissing a guy thing that had Dean hung up, though he thought it should have something to do with it, but it was certainly the brother thing. Dean could over look a lot of things in his life but that was one... just the idea of how utterly fucking pissed off his dad would be if he knew that Dean did _that_. No, Dean couldn't fuck up Sam's life that bad. So they kissed, and it was probably bound to happen since they saw each other every single second of every day, but that was all it could be. And Dean resolved to get a girl for the night and release that tension, but even when they went to a bar on that first night to hustle pool for money, Dean couldn't get his eyes off the strong line of Sam's body bent over the pool table long enough to see if there were even any girl's suitable in the place. Around then, Dean began to realize he was good and fucked on the whole issue.

As the time passed, as the days cycled by, Sam could feel himself getting heavier with the weight of what was there, unspoken, between them. Sam had never really been one to get all sentimental about things that weren't possible, after all, there were a lot of _those_ things in his life already. Sam was getting to be an expert at looking back on things and wanting them again, and knowing it wasn't possible. There were times when they got pissed off with each now, things that wouldn't have been an issue before; Sam knew it was the tension, the underlying current of _could be_. There were times when he even found himself wondering what was so bad about some kissing. Then he would see Dean's face, see the half smile he gave a waitress, the food he didn't finish or the way he tossed and turned in the bed.

Halfway through the following week Dean's resolve really began to fade. All the reasons why they _couldn't_ do this were dissolving into all the reasons they _should_. Neither Dean nor Sam would ever have any kind of relationship with anyone outside each other. Not in this lifestyle at least and neither were going to be leaving this lifestyle any time soon. Picking up random girls in a bar was time consuming, and fucking random strangers... it didn't do it for Dean the way it used too. Though he never told Sam that.

If the man paid any attention though - and Dean knew he did - he would see how very seldom Dean picked up girls anymore. It just never seemed worth it. But if things with Sam happened then it was like a relationship. It would be a commitment to each other. And yeah, they were brothers and that was wrong, but so was digging up bodies and salting and burning them. Hell, Dean was fairly certain people would even call that morally wrong along with illegal. Also making fake IDs, hustling pool and darts for money, fake credit cards, wrong, wrong, wrong and these were the things they had to do to survive. Kissing Sam, it felt the complete opposite of wrong. And now Dean started looking at him a different way, trying to judge where the man fell on the issue, just how he might react if Dean were to cross that line one more time and this time, not turn back.

Sam fell into bed early most nights so that he wouldn't have to feel the strange silence between him and his brother. Most mornings he started to decline breakfast, not wanting to sit across from Dean in a diner wanting to see something on his brother's face that wasn't there. He never asked to drive anymore, didn't fiddle with the stations on the radio and rarely spent an evening in the room without trying to find a reason to go for a walk.

It was starting to hurt to be around Dean. He found it a little easier, he realized, to come back to the motel room at night if he'd had a few beers. There was always a bar somewhere. Soon enough, Sam's walks became solitary trips to drink until his memories and thoughts were fuzzy enough that he could stumble back into the room and sleep the _quiet_ sleep. The mornings might have been a little harder, the days a little longer but it made the _mess_ tolerable.

Dean allowed about a week and a half of this _Sam getting drunk each night_ thing before he decided enough was enough. The rational was all but gone from his mind now anyway, added with the extra thoughts that, clearly, depriving them of what they both wanted was only hurting them. So he said a mental _fuck it_ and waited quietly for Sam to announce he was going out. Clearing his throat, he pushed off the bed and followed his brother silently to the door, slamming his hand against the wood surface the moment Sam went to pull it open, stepping in so he'd be right there when his brother turned around. "No. I don't think you are," he said quietly, voice deeper than normal if only because he'd been thinking about this moment all fucking day.

Blinking a few times Sam tilted his head frowned and stepped back. "Why am I not going out?" It was a little late for the _big brother_ routine as far as Sam was concerned. What was done was done, and Sam was old enough to wallow for a little while if he wanted to.

"Because I want you to stay here," he let his hand fall to Sam's arm, turning him and pushing him up against the door. He swallowed once and stepped forward, one leg sliding in between Sam's. Their bodies were as close as they could possibly be without touching and Dean leaned in, letting his lips ghost the few inches of air around Sam's mouth. "I want you to stay here... with me," he whispered and let his eyes flicker up to Sam's.

Sam's expression softened, his eyes drifted closed and he stepped back a little. "And what happens tomorrow morning?" His eyes were watery when they opened and he looked across as Dean. Sam slid forward to lean heavily against the door. He shook his head slowly, "you'll... it'll be wrong in the morning and," he took a deep breath, "you don't even look at me now, did you know that?" He let his head fall against the door.

"I do look, more then you know," Dean smiled softly and reached up to lay his fingers along Sam's jaw line. "I just do it when you're not looking," he shifted forward again into Sam and let his hands settle on his brother's waist. "I needed some time. I needed to not feel like I was... being a bad older brother. By letting this happen. But I've thought about. _Fuck_ it's all I've thought about. And I can't seem to remember why we shouldn't," he met Sam's eyes, held them so his brother knew he was telling the truth. "As far as tomorrow morning. I would like to have breakfast with you again. I'll even eat a piece of fruit to make you happy," his lips tilted up in a slight smile, belaying the nerves and fear of rejection coursing through him.

"Some time." Sam thought about that, his finger hooking over Dean's waist band and hanging there. "So, now you're not a bad older brother? You think things will be better if you and I-" Sam closed his eyes for a moment focusing on the feel of his brother's hand on his waist.

Dean sighed softly, "You're hurting because you want this and you think you can't have it. I'm hurting because I want _this_ and I feel like I'd be taking advantage of you if I insisted on it." Dean's hand shifted once more to Sam's face, cupping his cheek. "So I guess either way I'm a bad brother. But, if we allow ourselves this, it's not so bad," he wet his lips and frowned. "Am I reading this wrong? Do you not want this like I do?"

Sighing, Sam eyes widened, "how can you even ask that?" He tugged on Dean's waistband. "It's just the _after_ I don't want." A slight smile curved his lips and he slid closer along the wooden door.

"What if I promise an after that doesn't involve freaking out?" Dean asked quietly, dipping down to nuzzle his nose against the side of Sam's neck, breathing in the scent of his brother that he was a little surprised to realize how much he missed.

Smile growing, Sam leaned his head back against the door lengthening his neck for Dean. "Okay," he whispered. "Will you give me a massage again?" Sam could feel the tension draining from his body with each warm breath that ghosted over his skin.

"As long as I get one too," Dean grinned and pressed his lips into the stretched skin of Sam's neck. "And one of those chest ones too," he grinned even brighter as he lifted his head to meet Sam's eyes. "Maybe one lower, if you feel so inclined," this time his lips shifted into a smirk and he leaned in, lips hovering over Sam's. "So, are you gonna stop me if I kiss you now?"

Huffing out a small laugh Sam shook his head and rolled so his back was against the door. Spreading his legs a little he tugged Dean forward by his waist band. He slipped his finger under the top of Dean's boxers and ran it back and forth feeling the heat of his brother's skin. "You gonna stop me if I do that?" Sam's lips twitched and he bit down on his bottom lip.

Arching into the touch, Dean shook his head before brushing his lips across Sam's. "And what if I do this?" He slid his hand along the small of Sam's back, tucking his fingers under the jeans and boxers and shoving down to cup Sam's ass in the palm of his hand as he slanted his mouth over Sam's and shoved his tongue roughly into his brother's mouth like he'd been dreaming about doing since the last time it happened. A long moan fell from his lips as his fingers curled along flesh and his tongue slid against Sam's.

Moaning loudly into his brother's mouth, Sam slid down the door a little; every muscle in his body felt weak and his world spun a little off its axis. _Fuck_ he'd missed those lips and the way Dean's hand fit perfectly over his ass, the heat of his brother's body. Sam could feel his cock grow heavy, thicken and he rolled his hips forward into his brother's hard body then back into the grip of his hand. "Dean-" But then their lips were crushed together again and Sam's tongue was thrusting hard into his brother's mouth.

Sliding his hand back up to the small of Sam's back, Dean pulled his brother from the door, lips sliding along his as he walked them slowly across the room. The way Sam's body burned against his was intoxicating, Dean wanted more, right _now_. His fingers slid under the hem of Sam's shirt, around to the front to struggle with the buttons. "God Sam," Dean mumbled into the kiss, fingers progressing up the row as quickly as possible. Once the shirt was free he shoved roughly at the fabric on his shoulders, pushing it off. "Feel s'good," he continued to murmur, hands sliding up and down Sam's now bare chest.

"Good," Sam echoed, it was about all he could manage to growl out as his hands fumbled with Dean's clothes. He tugged and yanked on Dean's over shirt and finally managed to get it down off his shoulders then whined softly when he couldn't get the t-shirt off. " _Fuck_ , why you wear so many clothes?" Sam's voice was strained and he fussed with the over-shirt trying to get it down off his brother's arms.

Dean chuckled softly and shrugged out of the over-shirt, tossing it to the side. "Little eager Sammy?" He curled his fingers around the hem of his shirt and tugged up, letting it fall to the side. He spread his fingers out along Sam's chest once more, sliding the tips of his fingers along his waist line, brushing their lips together. Chances were he was just as eager as Sam, maybe even more. Dean continually backed them toward the bed, working at the button at the top of his jeans.

That strange feeling was swirling around in Sam's head, the one when he got out of bed way too fast in the morning and felt a million miles away from his own body. When his legs finally hit the bed he was relieved because he was starting to wonder how long his knees would hold him up.

Sinking down onto the mattress Sam slid his hands around his brother's hips as the jeans loosened then shoved his hands down under the waist band to pull all the material down. Leaning in Sam couldn't resist dragging his lips across the bottom of Dean's rib cage, lapping slowly at the musky warmth of his brother's flesh. When he couldn't push the jeans down any further his hands traveled back up Dean's legs and over his ass while the jeans were kicked off.

" _Jesus_ ," Dean's body arched up into Sam's touches, shifting to kick the denim off. There was a pretty good chance that Sam was going to kill him, but dying of pleasure seemed like a pretty decent way to go. "Back," he nudged Sam back on the bed, leaning down to trail his hands all along bare flesh. "You're so," he exhaled slowly, gazing down at Sam with watery eyes. His fingers shifted through Sam's hair, loving the feel of it through his fingers. Dean's heart lurched in his chest and he shoved at Sam roughly, kneeling between his spread legs on the mattress.

Sam's hands moved quickly to his waistband so he could loosen his button and pull his zipper down. Slipping his hands inside his own pants, Sam's eyes locked with Dean's. "You gonna help me outta these?" Arching his hips up off the bed slowly, Sam shoved his jeans down just a few inches then slid his hands under the denim. His lips twitched into a grin as he watched the flush on Dean's cheeks grow.

The heat that sparked through Dean at Sam's words was almost one of shock. He'd never known this side of Sam and more than anything he couldn't wait to learn it. Shifting down he tugged off Sam's shoes, tossing them to the side before curling his fingers in the hem of Sam's jeans, tugging down. Dean wet his lips as Sam he watched Sam lift the denim over his swollen cock. "Sam..." he exhaled slowly, watching the boxers tenting up around Sam's hard shaft. His eyes locked on Sam's as he crawled up the bed between his legs, dipping down to trail his lips just inside Sam's knee, along his thigh, nose dipping under then edge of Sam's boxers before shifting to nuzzle into the cotton covering the base of Sam's cock.

Sam used one foot to arch himself up into his brother's touch. Hands smoothing over his brother's short hair, Sam's body trembled. It shouldn't have taken them so long. Sam chased Dean's touch with his hips trying to get more pressure, more contact, "Dean, take 'em off." His hands slipped down from Dean's hair to his own boxers and he pushed the waistband down slightly as his hips twisted side to side.

Dean chuckled deeply and shifted back to tug at Sam's boxers, lifting it up over his length and dragging down. His eyes fixed instantly on Sam's hardness, tongue flicking out to run across his lips. Sam was more gorgeous like this than anything he'd ever seen before. Shifting forward once more, he trailed his tongue flat against the inside of Sam's thigh, tilting his head up so his nose could skim along the sensitive flesh of Sam's balls as he reached the top. "Feel good Sammy?" He asked, voice deep and rough before his snaked his tongue out once more and let is drag along the fleshy sac, sucking the skin in moments later.

" _God_ ," Sam's head snapped back against the mattress. He'd wanted this, and now, it was _far_ better than anything he'd imagined. Dean's mouth was so much hotter than Sam's skin and the way he used it nearly made Sam explode right then. "W..Want." His voice came out sounded rough and grating, low and thick; reaching down Sam brushed the tips of his fingers across Dean's cheek. His body was in motion constantly, muscles clenching then relaxing, head rolling from side to side and Dean was barely touching him.

"Yeah Sam," Dean whispered and wrapped his fingers around Sam's skin, stroking slowly up the flesh. His eyes shifted up to his brother's face, watching the reaction as his tongue came out to circle around the crown of Sam's cock, dipping into the slit. "What do you want?" He asked huskily, dragging his tongue along the vein along the underside of his brother's swollen flesh. "Want me to suck you? Take you as far as possible into my mouth?" Dean rolled his hips down into the mattress; tongue pressed firmly into the slit once more.

It felt like Dean’s voice has substance, as though, somehow it was gliding along Sam’s flesh behind his fingers. Heart pounding out a frantic rhythm, Sam's mouth opened, then closed and he licked his lips trying somehow to drag out the words that were lodged somewhere in his chest.

When Dean pulled away a little Sam struggled to lean up; his brother's face, _Dean_ , Sam had never seen him look like this. His normally bright green eyes were darkly laced with _need_ , his skin ruddy and flushed and his lips wet from the tongue that passed over them. Sighing out a shuddering breath Sam tried again, "I was gonna ask," he cleared his throat and let his head fall back, "to kiss you more." Panting slightly, Sam turned his head, cheeks blushing and smiled slightly as his eyes locked with Dean's.

There was a warm smile on Dean's lips as he shifted forward, fingers hook in the elastic on the waistband of his boxers and dragging down even as he crawled forward. "I like the kissing thing," Dean mused, kicking out of the boxers and letting his hips slide against Sam's, chest pressing flush into his. A quick and sharp hiss fell from him as their cocks met and brushed together and Dean's forehead dropped down into Sam's. "Jesus," he wet his lips, dipping in to wet Sam's at the same time before rocking their hips together once more and slanting his mouth over Sam's. A soft moan echoed into Sam's mouth as Dean deepened the kiss and let his hips roll forward for another slip slide of burning flesh.

All Sam could manage was a muffled "yes" against Dean's lips in the few moments between their mouths making contact and their tongues sliding past each other's. The hard length pressed against his, the gentle swell of Dean's ass under Sam's wide hand; there were so many sensations all at once. Something, a feeling so intense it was almost painful began inching its way through Sam's veins. Never, he'd never been so turned on by anyone. Every touch sent little sparks of lust running along his flesh. Rolling his hips up gently Sam angled his body so that their cocks rubbed teasingly together with each movement. "Dean," he murmured into his brother's mouth when they broke apart momentarily to gasp in some air.

It wasn't at all like being with a girl, obviously, but Sam's body burned under his hotter than anything he'd ever felt. Even this, something that seemed so simple, the slide of their flesh together, had Dean's orgasm coiling up in him, ready to spring. Hearing his name fall from Sam's lips was almost too much and he reclaimed his mouth for another long kiss, tongue shoving forward roughly, fucking into Sam's mouth in long, thoroughly sweeps. Their hips were in constant motion together, rolling and rocking, and Dean was lost in that swell of too much and not nearly enough all at once. "Fuck Sammy," he grunted as he broke the kiss and dropped his head to the crook of Sam's neck, sucking flesh into his lips.

Sam's hands moved restlessly over his brother's body, down his sides then up over the gentle curve of his back to slip down and cup his ass. His fingers dug in, _claiming_ , pulling Dean closer to grind their hips together. Sweat was beading on Sam's forehead, he could feel it - his skin over-sensitive to every touch, every slide of heated flesh.

Body bowing up off the bed, Sam's hands moved again up over the rock-solid muscle on his brother's back blunt fingernails grating along his brother's skin. Groaning Sam's hands slipped forward and pushing hard on Dean's chest rolling them and landing firmly on top of his brother's body. "Gotcha," Sam panted out as he leaned down to suck his brother's bottom lip into his mouth.

The _taste_ of Dean was something Sam would never forget, so familiar and so exotic. Smiling slightly Sam shifted; rolling his hips to slide their cocks together again then mouth his way along his brother's strong jaw. Sam slid one large hand up the front of Dean's neck, pushing his brother's head back and giving himself room to lick, nip and kiss his way down the long path of flesh.

Being shoved around by Sam, feeling that sharp pull along the back of his neck, was hotter then Dean imagined. He moaned as his body arched up into Sam's crotch, shifting beneath him restlessly. "Fuck Sammy, I gotta-" he gasped, struggling to get more sensation, to get closer to his desperately needed release. "So fuckin' hot," he murmured, hands splaying across Sam's shoulders, down his back, cupping at his ass.

Sam's tongue on his skin was only adding little darts of pleasure to the thrumming in his veins, heart thudding so loud it echoed in his ears. Whatever it was between them, there would never be anything better, and Dean knew this along with the knowledge that this was _it_ for him. Pleasure coursed through him, shook his body, and one last slide up of their cocks together and he came. Thick, white hot jets of release shot from him, along his and Sam's skin. He'd never _once_ came before from not being touched and he would have been embarrassed if he had any thought left in his mind outside the chanting of Sam's name.

The feel of Dean's body shuddering under his was incredible. Sam's eyes were wide, locked on Dean's face and the emotions that ran across it. He rolled to the side and pressed up against Dean's body as his fingers moved forward to slip through the come spilled on his brother's body. Close as he could, Sam's lips were moving on Dean's cheek, his jaw up to his ear to suck the small lobe into his mouth. All the while his fingers were circling in his brother's release as his hips pressed forward into Dean's hip. Pushing up on one elbow Sam's lips parted and he brought his hand up to slide two fingers into his mouth. The _taste_ of Dean, a little salty, musky, earthy. His body shuddered as he sucked on his fingers, his hips grinding his still rigid cock into his brother's warm hip. Pulling his fingers out of his mouth he licked his lips and looked down at Dean, finding his brother's gaze and smiling.

Dean was staring at Sam with a sort of shocked awe, heat crawling through him as he watched Sam's now slightly parted lips. "Jesus Sam," he swallowed thickly, shoving a hand roughly at Sam's shoulder and flipping him over. In one flash he was sliding down Sam's body between his legs, once more settling his fingers along Sam's cock and dragging up before sucking the crown into his mouth. Dean pulled him in as much as he could, adjusting to the way his brother's thick and swollen cock filled his mouth. Seeing Sam suck Dean's come off his fingers had probably been one of the _hottest_ things imaginable and he would have come again if such a thing were possible. Now he wanted to taste Sam along his tongue, wanted to milk out his orgasm and drink it all down, wanted to _feel_ Sam come apart beneath him. He sucked eagerly, dropping a hand to massage along Sam's balls.

Sam let his body sink back against the bed, hips twitching up wanting _more_ , _deeper_ , _Dean_. His tongue swirled around his mouth still tasting Dean which just added to the lust hammering around in his body. "Please," he murmured as he arched into his brother's touch. Sam could already feel his body tensing, heat pooling in his belly. "Dean, please," his hips tilted as he stretched his arms out barely able to thread his fingers through Dean's hair.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean pulled his head back enough to murmur before dipping back down. He sucked Sam in as far as he could imagine, hollowing his cheeks as his tongue lapped along the skin. The hand on Sam's balls pressed firmer, urging him along. Pulling up again, Dean blew out a hot breath along Sam's flesh and looked up, "C'mon, want you to come in my mouth, wanna taste you," his voice was still surprisingly deep and gruff and he dipped down to suck Sam back in. His teeth slid just lightly over the sensitive flesh before he relaxed his jaw and let Sam slid further in, squeezing firmly along the base of his cock and dragging up to meet his lips.

The voice again, Sam's body shuddered as his balls tightened. The heat of his brother's mouth and the way his tongue moved over Sam's rigid cock was _perfect_. Thigh muscles shuddering, Sam could feel his orgasm building, swirling out from the center of his body. He jolted up off the bed, body arched, shoulders thrown back and came; his cock pulsed, hips twitching and he shot his load down his brother's throat. _Into Dean's mouth_. "Fuck." Shivering slightly, Sam fell back onto the bed.

Dean swallowed everything Sam had, letting the taste swirl around his mouth. It wasn't bad, not at _all_ , kind of musky and salty and oddly _Sam_. Letting the flesh fall from his lips as it softened, Dean crawled up Sam's body, slow smile pulling up his lips. His body was still slightly weak from his own orgasm and he fell to Sam's side a moment later, dropping small kisses along his jaw. When Sam turned into the touch Dean slanted their mouths together, letting his lips part wide for Sam's tongue to enter, moaning into the kiss as his hand settled low on Sam's abs.

Sam could happily kiss Dean for hours; the man's lips were swollen, soft, silky skin and slick. He pulled back slightly, "we can do that," he slid his tongue along Dean's bottom lip, "any time you want." Brushing his lips back and forth across Dean's he smiled.

"Fuck yeah," Dean murmured, sucking Sam's tongue into his mouth for a moment before pulling back and settling onto the bed beside him, dragging him close. "Might get bored though. Might want to try out some other things," he smirked slightly, bringing a hand up to run through Sam's slightly damp hair. His heart had fallen back to its normal pass and his skin was cooling quick enough to have him reaching down and working at the blanket to pull over them.

"As well," Sam shifted closer to slide his arm over Dean's waist, "other things _as well_." He couldn't stop moving his lips over Dean's, over the rough stubble of his cheek, the heat of his neck. "'Cause this? Was good." Burying his face in Dean's neck Sam closed his eyes, smiling.

Dean's own eyes were already slipping closed and he hummed, "Yeah it was." He tightened his hold on Sam and dropped a kiss to his temple before letting sleep tug at him harder. "Night Sammy."

-=-=-=-

The bar was sprinkled with the random type of people you'd expect to find in a local bar. A few burly men who called themselves bikers - like the one Dean was currently playing pool with - some younger men probably from the local college campus, a variety of busty girls dressed in skimpy clothes - like the one Sam was currently talking too. It was that sight right there, the way Sam's head was tilted to the side in his slight, shy smile, the way the girl was leaning forward to practically stuff her boobs in Sam's line of sight, that had Dean losing so badly at his game. Even if it was the plan to lose, this time it was simply real. How was he supposed to focus when Sam was reaching out and flicking a loose strand of hair from the girl's forehead. A deep frown tugged down his lips and he forced the swell of jealousy to go away. Sam was _his_ and he was Sam's. They both knew this and Dean had to cling to the fact to keep from storming over there and demanding an explanation.

Sam had glanced toward the pool table, certain he could feel eyes on him; sure enough Dean looked away just as Sam's eyes darted over. The corner of Sam's mouth twitched up in a bigger smile. He really wasn't interested in the woman, he was killing time and keeping an eye on his brother in case things got out of hand and he needed a hand. But, it was always fun to invest a little extra time and energy in something that would get a rise out of his brother. After all, it wasn't much different than a practical joke. He grinned and turned his face toward the bar to hide his expression from his brother. Sam listened to the woman, her stories were entertaining enough and made sure that Dean saw him reach out and brush his fingers over the back of her hand.

Dean scratched the eight ball and of course the man he was playing with called him on it. A deep scowl fixed along his features and he forced himself to stop looking at his brother and say to the man, "Double or nothing." The man was pretty greedy - his eyes gleamed in the dim light of the bar - and he agreed without hesitation, slapping the money on the edge of the pool table.

Dean lined up the balls, eyes shooting to Sam and the girl when he heard a shrill little giggle and the faint response of Sam's laughter. Face scrunching up, Dean leaned over the pool table and pushed the rack apart widely with a powerful break shot. Balls zinged in all directions, three solids sliding into holes. The man playing against him stiffened, eyes widening slightly and Dean forced a shrug and a mumbled, "Lucky break," before setting up for another shot. He wanted to be done, win his money, and drag Sam's ass out of there and away from the skank in four inch heels.

Staring across the room Sam had to admit Dean was hot. Bent over the pool table, jeans pulled taut against his ass - but the look on Dean's face, the spark of jealously in his brother's eyes was what went straight to Sam's cock causing it to swell and thicken. He could feel his cheeks flush and leaned closer to the woman to whisper in her ear, letting his lashes fall to his cheeks.

With the next slide back of his cue stick Dean glanced up and nearly botched the entire shot. The jealousy burned white hot behind his eyes and he had to pull in a sharp breath and forced his eyes down. With that jealousy came the slightest burn and sting of doubt, like maybe Sam _wanted_ that girl and who was Dean to deny him that? His brother? His lover? What if their whole fucked up thing was finally weighing too heavily on his shoulders?

The man muttered something about Dean being a pussy and he clenched his jaw and took the shot, sinking another solid and three more following. At this rate, the man wouldn't even have a chance to play. But at least he'd have their money. Dean's eyes slid up to his brother again, heart hammering so hard in his chest it hurt.

Sam felt a little pinch of guilt; he could tell that Dean was jealous. He just couldn't help himself. He liked the idea of Dean feeling possessive; it convinced Sam that Dean still wanted him, _needed_ him. Sam leaned forward to slip his hand over the woman's waist as she stood. She leaned over the bar to get the bartenders attention and Sam let his eyes slide down over her body. Really? He was already thinking of how _good_ the sex would be later when Dean finally forgave him.

In the next three shots Dean finished the game, snatching at the money before the man could really even process the fact that he'd just been majorly _had_. Dean's mind was flashing red, staring at the place Sam's hand rest on the girls waist with narrowed eyes. He crossed the bar in quick strides, ready to spin his brother around and fucking demand some sort of... something. Maybe even slam him up against the wall and teach him a lesson or two. Dean huffed out a quick, angry breath as he closed the distance between himself and Sam with additional bitch slut, arms automatically crossing over his chest to hold back his anger.

The fierce look in Dean's eyes was pretty _fuckin'_ sexy. Sam knew all this was about to bite him in the ass, he hoped literally, but _Jesus_ the look on Dean's face. Shifting on the stool, letting his hand fall from the woman and his legs fall open to give himself a little more comfort Sam let his eyes glide up Dean's body to lock with the other man's gaze. "Hey Dean," Sam's voice was husky and warm and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth.

Dean would recognize the arousal in Sam's voice anywhere, now that he'd heard it so many times before. He hated the idea that this girl could have _anything_ to do with that arousal and he stepped forward slightly, reaching out to get the bar tender's attention. Dean was pretty much fuming silently and it was taking a good portion of his energy to not smack this woman away. If she hadn't been a girl, he would have done it in a heartbeat. "Sam," he forced out the name, rough and clipped.

"Dean," Sam swallowed, "this is Karen. She's been keeping me company while you were playing." Sam watched his brother's face as she introduced herself, eyes slipping over the tense muscles in his brother's jaw. He watched Dean's eyes darken even more as Karen made a point of saying how attentive and attractive Sam was. He smiled but his eyes were only seeing Dean.

"Karen," he nodded at her, not able to force himself to say something like _nice to meet you_ when it so clearly wasn't. She kept babbling about something and Dean snatched at the beer bottle the moment the bar tender brought it over, tipping it back and draining half the contents. His eyes slid to Sam and he spoke quietly, "I won. So we're done here." He said the word pointedly, letting Sam know without saying it that he was clearly _not_ pleased with him.

Sam leaned forward and kissed Karen on the cheek, "thanks for keeping me company, Karen. It was a pleasure to meet you." Sam pushed up to his full height pretending to stumble a little so he could press the growing bulge in his jeans against his brother's hip. Sam patted his jacket pocket and winked at Karen, "I've got your number." He stepped past Dean and waited, looking down to hide the flush on his cheeks; even rubbing against Dean like that through the material and so briefly was _hot_. "You ready, Dean?"

Dean narrowed his eyes at the woman for a moment before turning and brushing purposefully past his brother, heading for the exit. Blood was rushing through his veins, making him nearly dizzy with jealousy, and he waited only long enough for Sam to follow him outside before he turned sharply and led them down the back alley. The minute Sam stepped around the corner his fingers were digging in the man's shirt, shoving him roughly against the wall and crashing their hips together. "What the _fuck_ Sam?" He growled, face inches from Sam's, eyes narrowed.

Sam couldn't keep the smile off his face as he rolled his hips against Dean's _hard_. "Do you _know_ how hot you are when you're all possessive and shit?" He leaned in closer, feeling Dean's hands tightening in his shirt; ghosting his lips past his brother's Sam whispered, "what's wrong? You can't seriously think that was real?"

"Easily could have been," Dean mumbled, still not quite ready to let the anger fizzle away, though it was fading in the wake of heat soaring through him, centering on his crotch. He met the roll of Sam's hips, tightening his fingers on the shirt and pulling Sam roughly into his lips. Dean's tongue thrust forward automatically, sliding in and out of his brother's mouth as he moaned and pushed forward.

Sam slid a little on the wall, hands catching on to Dean's belt as he deepened the kiss by opening his mouth and sucking on his brother's tongue. Sliding his hands along Dean's belt Sam shifted slightly and fumbled with the button and zipper on the other man's jeans. It took just moments for Sam to slide his cool fingers down the front of his brother's jeans and fist his rigid cock. He moaned into Dean's mouth the rough wall scraping his back where his jacket was riding up.

Dean was pretty aware of the fact that they were basically out in the open, anyone could see, there was a back door to the bar not five feet from them. It only made things a thousand times hotter and he arched forward into Sam's touch, moaning into the kiss as his own hands worked along the front of Sam's pants, shoving his fingers inside his boxers moments later. He curled his fingers around Sam's length, working the flesh in rhythm with Sam's. After several long moments he wrenched his lips free, sucking in a sharp and shaky breath. "Fuck Sam," he gasped, shifting forward repeatedly into the touch, thumb grazing along the top of Sam's shaft and pressing firmly down.

Body vibrating, Sam moaned, letting his mouth fall to his brother's neck. His fingers worked Dean's shaft, the way he knew his brother _loved_ , his thumb sweeping over the head, fingers twisting and sliding softly. His teeth sank into the flesh of Dean's neck then he licked his way up to Dean's ear and whispered, "always yours, just you." then moaned as Dean's hand swept down his cock and his hips jolted forward.

Rocking constantly forward into Sam's hand, Dean let his head fall back slightly to grant Sam more access. "Like me jealous?" He moaned, twisting his fingers around Sam's hard flesh, quickening his strokes and squeezes. "Like making me want to claim you?" He should have known it was just Sam teasing him. Like a prank, only much different with _much_ better outcomes. A heavy groan fell from his lips as his knees dipped slightly and he pressed Sam harder back into the wall.

"Y..Yes," Sam hissed against his brother's neck as he moved his lips up to Dean's ear, slipping his tongue inside at the same moment as he swept his fingers over the weeping head of his brother's cock. Moaning, Sam sucked Dean's ear lobe into his mouth and rolled it between his teeth; his free hand slid around to grab Dean's ass and pull him closer still.

If it had been possible to fuck Sam up against the wall he would have, but it currently wasn't an option so he settled for rutting forward rapidly into Sam's hand and working his own at a rapid pace. His free hand slipped up under Sam's shirt, tweaking at a nipple, wrapping around his back and shoving roughly down. "Fuck Sam, I want-" he moaned, hips thrusting forward faster. "You drive me so fuckin' crazy," he couldn't seem to stop murmuring away, head falling to the side for Sam's lips. "I wanted to fuckin' take you right there in front of that bitch. Let her know you're _mine_ ," he growled the last word, squeezing Sam's cock for emphasis.

Sam's body was trembling, every muscle, he could barely stay on his feet and probably wouldn't have if Dean didn't have him pinned to the wall. "Want you." Sam mumbled letting his head fall back against the wall. He was panting, his heart beating at a dizzying speed as it crashed around in his ribcage. Sam's eyes darted to the end of the alley and back to his brother's eyes. "Now." he whispered against Dean's lips and shuddered. Sam's fingers tightened on his brother's thick shaft and he licked his way into Dean's mouth, whimpering softly.

"Jesus Sam, here?" He gasped, pulling his lips back to stare at Sam with wide eyes. "Want me to fuck you up against this wall?" He growled, hand falling to shove roughly at Sam's waistline, giving his fingers enough room to slide along Sam's balls and rub against puckered flesh. Dean shifted forward and licked the curve of Sam's lip. "Out here where anyone could see us? What if that pretty little Karen came around the corner and saw me fucking you?"

"Don't care." Sam could barely speak and the noises he was making were just moans and wordless groans. Right at that moment, Sam was pretty sure he would have done whatever his brother wanted. He just wanted _more_. "Please," he always found himself saying please to Dean, begging for his brother to take him, _Jesus_ Sam never cared when or where as long as it was Dean. Struggling, twisting and wrestling in Dean's arms Sam rolled against the wall pressing his face onto the rough bricks. "Dean."

"Fuck," Dean spat and shoved Sam's pants down roughly, pulling his hips back to give him enough room to even move forward. He spit in one hand while the other shoved at his own jeans. They'd done this only hours before, in their motel bed coming to the bar, and Dean was banking on Sam being stretched enough because he wants him so fucking much he doesn't think he can handle any preparation. If it's a little tighter than usual he knew Sam would savor the pain just as much regardless.

Slicking his spit over his aching shaft, Dean tugged roughly at Sam's hips to angle him back, just enough for him to line himself up to the entrance and slide all the way in, head falling forward onto Sam's shoulder as their bodies locked together. "Oh shit Sammy, so fuckin' tight," he groaned, biting at the flesh before rocking back and sliding in again.

Sam's hands slammed into the wall, his palms dragging roughly down the brick. The burn was harsh but Sam's body was completely focused on the fullness, _Dean_ inside of him, pressed up against him. Sliding his feet apart Sam sank deeper onto his brother's cock. All night he'd been thinking of Dean thrusting in to him, the tightness, the way his muscles clenched around his brother's cock. Sometimes, Sam thought it was all he would ever manage to think about for the rest of his life. Dean thrust hard, fingers digging into the sensitive skin of Sam's hip and his cock swept over the bundle of nerves deep inside. Knees buckling, Sam's hands scrabbled at the wall as he moaned.

Just knowing they were in public made Dean's hips slam forward at lightning speed, hand wrapping around to curl fingers along the base of Sam's cock and stroke up. He grunted his brother's name almost on repeat, muttering things like _fuckin' mine_ and _fuck Sam s'good_. Dean felt nearly dizzy with the desire to come, to feel Sam's ass clench around him, and he moaned loudly, hearing it echo down the alley way. The pad of his thumb slid across the slit of Sam's cock, smearing pre-come, dragging down onto burning flesh. Sam continued to rock down into him, making everything burn and flare deliciously around him.

Everything was coming apart inside of Sam; his heart was thudding so fast he could barely think or breath. Thighs aching with the strain Sam groaned long and hard as his balls drew up against his body. Warmth uncoiled within him, "Dean, gonna-" he moaned his body rocking back and forth between his brother hand and the heat thrusting in his ass. His orgasm shot through his body like a gunshot, quick and fast, he fell hard against the wall as he shot hot and thick over his brother's hand. The muscles in his ass grasped tight on his brother's shaft and Sam's moaning dragged on and on in his mind.

Dean was fairly certain the feel of Sam getting off, clenching around him, would _always_ get him there. Not even a dozen thrusts later and he was emptying into Sam with rapid, staccato jerks forward. His hips begin to slow as the pleasure seeped from him and Dean finally rested against Sam's back, legs weak and shaking from the stimulation. "Holy fuck you're hot," Dean mumbled, ever the romantic. He smirked at himself and pressed a kiss to Sam's back.

Laughing softly Sam enjoyed the heat and weight of his brother's body. "You're so suave, I -" Sam gasped in a breath "I dunno how I ever resisted you." Groaning Sam moved his face off the brick and rested his cheek on his hand.

"Seriously," Dean agreed and groaned as he pulled out of Sam, staggering back and pulling up his jeans. "Fuck my legs are gonna give out if we don't _sit_." He sighed heavily and considered his brother with a smirk. "I'll suck your dick if you go back in there and let that bitch catch a good look at you all fucked out."

Sam pushed up off the wall and shoved himself back in his jeans. " _You_ are a sick man." Sam grinned and leaned against Dean's side to kiss him full and hard. When he pulled back he licked Dean's lips, "car?"

Still smirking, Dean led them around the alley and out to the car, arm wrapped low along Sam's waist. "You never would have hooked up with her right? I mean even if we weren't..." he glanced up at Sam for a moment, tugging his keys from his pocket.

Smirking, Sam glanced over at his brother, "guess you'll have to keep me happy then it won't matter." As far as Sam was concerned there was _no_ other person who would ever make him feel the way Dean did.


End file.
